


Reinforcing Change

by Patmos



Series: The Daughters of Tortall [1]
Category: Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Adventure, Gen, Magic and Meditation, Military Training, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Nudity, Underdogs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-02-02 13:01:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12727095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patmos/pseuds/Patmos
Summary: Keladry of Mindelan's brave example as the first known Lady Squire in over a century has brought the daughters of Tortall out of their solars and into Corus as more lady pages apply themselves to the defense of the Realm. Five girls have joined this year, determined to enforce the change that Lady Alanna started decades ago. Follow Merinda of Linshart, her sister Fianola, and her friends Yvenne of Kels Ridge, Hatine of Seajen, and Bennett of Stone Mountain (not a girl but a good enough sort), as they work hard, face adversity, and fight lawlessness both human and Immortal in their first year of page training.





	1. Aphistides

**Author's Note:**

> NaNoWriMo has become something of a habit at this point. This is unbetated, so feel free to critique. I want to make this a long project, but I'm not so great at consistent updates. Still, I like challenging myself. Let me know what you think!
> 
> Pierce has mentioned that she wants to write a short story about Fianola, so I'm focusing less on her and more on her canonically unnamed little sister, whom I've named Merinda, the bubbly Yvenne, who gave me no choice but to write about her, and Bennett of Stone Mountain, who will be even more of a sad, determine underdog than the girls. Please enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The summer after three girls talk with a thoroughly tilt-pounded Keladry of Mindelan, Fianola, Yvenne, and Merinda have an adventure that reinforces their decisions to become Lady Knights.

Running in the summer was harder than it had been in the spring, Merinda reflected for the hundredth time as she pounded dust up beside Yvenne, keeping a steady pace along the track that led up to the swimming hole. Fianola was trailing them, but keeping to the same pace. The girls had learned early that running as fast as possible was rather stupid. Talking while running wasn’t easy either.

The three noble girls had become a regular sight on the ridge into the hilly forest to the south of Linshart’s main town of Hartshire since they’d returned from the Grand Progress last spring. The sisters Fianola and Merinda were the third and fourth children of Lady Sandela and her late husband Lord Jeffrae. They had olive skin, deep brown eyes, and tight, brown curls that fought any attempt to tame them. Since spring, their skin had darkened with a tan from being outside so often, and their muscles had begun to develop and define.

Yvenne was their foster sister, and had been living with them since she was four years old. She was an heiress to their neighbors to the east, the Duchy of Kels Ridge. She was blonde, blue-eyed, and normally fair-skinned, but right now she was terribly sunburned and peeling. Merinda was impressed that she never complained about it. Everyone had expected her to quit by now, but the bubbly ten year old was still going strong.

All three girls were dressed alike in the dusty brown, short-sleeved tunics, cream Yamani trousers wrapped tightly around their calves and loose above, and the sturdy leather shoes they’d bought on Progress with Yvenne’s pocket money. She always split it with her two foster sisters, stating that it was no fun to spend money by herself. For the last couple years they’d all three been saving it to outfit themselves for page training, and the outfits were a start.

Merinda saw the point in the trail up ahead that would take them under the shade of the trees and grinned, speeding up. Yvenne let out a bubbly laugh and started to race her, Fianola quickly joining in. Longer legs on both Fianola and Yvenne gave them an advantage, and Merinda came in last yet again despite her lead. They slowed to a trot in the shade.

“Augh!” Merinda despaired, throwing her arms up. “I lost again!”

“Don’t be consternated, Merinda,” Yvenne panted, nursing a stitch in her side. Consternated was her word of the week. “You’ll probably be the fastest of us eventually.”

Fianola patted her sister’s shoulder as she passed by. “Come on. Let’s go cool off.”

Merinda sighed. “Blissful coolness. When I’m a knight, I hope I get assigned in the north. I’d love to get actually snowed in for once.”

“Not me,” Yvenne stated, shuddering. “I want to go so far south that they start speaking Carthaki.”

Guilt washed over Merinda. Again, she’d forgotten that all of Yvenne’s family had been snowed in when they’d gotten sick, turning a fine midwinter gathering into a deathtrap. After her entire household had been reduced by a terrible contagion before healers could take care of it, she was the last member of her family. The only members of staff that had survived alongside Yvenne was a twitchy understeward who became an even twitchier steward, two maids, and the huntmaster. They kept the large defensive castle in shape for her, but Yvenne never wanted to visit it.

“Sorry, Yvenne,” Merinda murmured, but a wave of her friend’s hand stopped her.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m not really all that bothered,” Yvenne chirped. “Honestly, I barely remember it.”

This was possibly a lie, but Merinda would let her friend have her pride. Fianola changed the subject.

“How are you enjoying _The Historie of Lady Knights of the Realm_?” The only one would could afford rare books was Yvenne, and the sisters insisted that she read them first.

“Oh, it’s terribly grand!” she said with venom in her tone. “There’s actually some useful bits and references to other books in between the excessive monologue to the superiority of men. I thought for sure this one would be in support of us, but instead it’s just neutral history and oodles of horrible opinions about how ‘this trend should be left in the past’ and ‘not all ancient practices are wise’, as if a hundred years was oh so long ago!”

Fianola sighed deeply. “Our great-grandparents lived a hundred years ago. How people could get so bigoted in such a short time baffles me. When we go to Corus, I’ll be sure to ask our history teacher to explain better about why lady knights went out of style.”

The other girls groaned in exasperation. Their tutor, Thoddeus, had been incredibly useless when it came to that question. After the last time they’d asked, his answer had been that the Realm had needed babies more than knights, only with a lot less tact, and Lady Sandela had promptly dismissed him.

The fact that she had yet to hire a new tutor, and that their governess still only taught the basics, seemed to them to be somewhat encouraging. Perhaps Lady Sandela would keep her word about page training.

“At least we have only a year left,” Merinda quipped. “We’ll have plenty of time to catch up to where the boys will be, fitness wise.”

“Then we had better practice our woods stealth,” Fianola suggested.

Before the girls were born, the river that meandered down out of the mountains and flattened out in the valley had been called Stony River, but now it was Aphista, as it was called by the naiads that inhabited it since the Immortals War. They were the main reason the girls felt safe visiting the pool up in the hills. There was a waterfall and a screening of reeds and cattails, so the freshwater spirits used it for their primary meeting place. Locals had quickly learned that the naiads attacked any man that dared try to force himself on females, no matter where they’d done it. Girls were especially safe near the water these days.

As they got closer to the pool, they heard the splashing of their immortal friends. They pushed through a screen of blueberry bushes -- nearly picked clean by the girls in the last few weeks -- and onto a gravel spit that lined one side of the pool. As they were about to pull off their shoes, a shriek went up from the other side of the pool where the naiads preferred to play. They splashed into the shallows and looked around a bend in the land to find their friends under attack. A lone satyr had grabbed one of the naiads by the hair and had pulled her onto the rocks near the waterfall. Mist poured around them as the remaining naiads screamed and attempted to rescue her. Despite their usual viciousness, the naiads’ magic was weak against the musical energy of satyrs, who traditionally preyed on them.

For a moment, Merinda was frozen with indecision. How in the world would they be able to help? They were just three little girls, barely beginning to train themselves!

Movement to her right startled her out of her shock. Yvenne, anger apparent on her face, had thrust her hand into the water and come up with a flat stone. With the other hand she pulled the sling from her belt. Merinda watched in amazement as she fitted the stone into the cradle of the sling and started swinging it around. When she let it fly, it cracked loudly against the stone right behind the satyr, startling him to a stop.

For one terrifying moment, the eyes of all the Immortals were on the girls. Merinda drew in a breath and held it. The satyr leered at them. Merinda feared he would come for them next. Instead, he resumed his harassment of the poor naiad.

Just like that, the spell seemed to be broken on the girls. All three of them searched the river bottom for stones and unhooked their slings. Fianola, who kept the hunting horn they took everywhere, started to blow the alert. She passed her stones to Yvenne, who got off another shot before she slipped in the water and went under, sputtering. 

Now they had the satyr’s full attention, for the stone had lobbed him on the thigh. Merinda had never seen an expression both livid and lustful, but he certainly managed it. He let go of the naiad -- Merinda only now dimly registered that she was the one called Serenade -- and leapt over the pool.

Yvenne was still down, Fianola fumbling to put another stone into her sling. Merinda’s ears rang with a high-pitched whine, the world settling into a fine point of hairs between the satyr’s eyes. Time slowed, allowing her to make out fine golden hairs amid the muddy brown, the ribs in the curves of his horns, the bits of greenery still in his grinning teeth. His pupils were shaped like a goat’s, somehow terrifying in their strangeness. His phallus was nestled in the shaggy fur of his goat legs, erect from the struggle. For the first time in her life, Merinda’s fear turned to rage. This crazed Immortal not only preyed on women and girls, but it was the rape that excited him. And if they didn’t stop him right now, he would do to them what he had planned to do to Serenade, what he had probably done to many other girls before.

Merinda still had the flat stone in her hand. The pad of her thumb ran over the the slick grit of it, water still dripping from its edge. A sense of power welled up in her, running down through her arm and tingling in her fingertips. It made her joints ache fever hot and her muscles twitch. In slow motion she felt her arm draw back, the stone gripped in between her first two fingers and thumb, the most perfect position to skip the flat rock over the surface of the water, only she was aiming for his forehead.

She swung. A sigh left her, and in the moment when she twisted her fingers to launch the stone, that power in her arm bunched behind it and shot the stone off like a bauble off the polishing wheel in a goldsmith’s shop. The force of it knocked her arm back and all three of the girls off their feet.

Before Merinda hit the water, though, she saw the stone smash into the satyr’s face. She couldn’t hear a thing, but she could tell that not only was his nose crushed, but probably his skull too. Blood spattered out as the force in her throw lung him back over to crash into the reeds in the shallows.

Water closed over her head, bringing the world back to normal speed and chasing away that power until she felt as weak as a newborn kitten. A naiad -- Celestraea, her mind helpfully provided -- was the one to pull her up into a sitting position. Waterlilies dripped from her curly brown hair, their creamy color the same as her irises. Merinda gasped in air and sputtered, as awkward as the naiads were graceful.

Somewhere, Fianola was cussing like a hardened soldier, cursing mostly at the satyr who was lying unmoving in the muddy shallows. Merinda was caught up in the intensity of Celestraea’s eyes. The naiad leaned in.

“Come see me tonight at your well,” she said softly. Still in shock, Merinda nodded.

Celestraea flipped back into the pool to join her sisters in comforting Serenade. Merinda turned to see Yvenne staring at her, mouth agape. She was spared needing an explanation to something she was just as clueless about as Yvenne was by the arrival of one of their fief’s patrols. After ascertaining what had basically happened from Fianola, the girls were tucked up pillion with the men-at-arms and taken back to the castle.

\-----

The moon was full. Wrapped in her favorite pale blue dressing gown and soft leather slippers, Merinda quietly opened the door of the room she shared with Fianola, and closed it just as quietly. They shared one of the West Tower rooms; climbing stairs was another one of their exercises, and the captain of their men-at-arms, Wilsdon, whom they had begged to set them training tasks, used any excuse to send them running up and down any set of stairs in the castle.

She was halfway down to the next landing when she spotted Yvenne in her pink dressing gown, blonde hair pleated down her back, sitting in a moonbeam. Yvenne had the room above them, at the top of the tower.

“You must have been waiting for me for a while,” Merinda whispered. She’d been asleep on her feet by the time they’d been returned home. Mother had sent her to bed with an understanding that there would be lots of talking in the morning. Just the thought of it wearied Merinda even more.

Yvenne shrugged. “Not long. Where are you going?”

“To the kitchens,” she replied, not really lying. The well was in the kitchen yard.

“Alright,” Yvenne whispered and stood. “I could use a snack.”

Merinda held in her impatience. While Celestraea had not specified that she had to come alone, part of her wanted this to be her own thing, without sharing. But another part of her was frightened and sick, and wanted nothing more than to cling to Yvenne, who was always so fearless. She sighed and made her quiet way down through the cool castle to the kitchens, Yvenne following her.

The kitchens were dark and cold for the evening. On the table was a basket of leftover pastries, a jar of last winter’s apple butter, a pot of clotted cream, and several figs, left out for her. Yvenne filched a bottle of milk from the creamery. She didn’t seem at all surprised when Merinda unlocked the door into the courtyard and went out into the night.

They picked their way down the kitchen garden path, meandering towards the well. In order to honor the naiads that kept the river safe, Lady Sandela had ordered that pretty ponds be made next to the wells, so that girls could bring gifts and offerings. The kitchen pond was planted with all sorts of wonderful water plants that people could eat, and was deep enough for the naiads to float in. Celestraea was already waiting for them, seated on a submerged rock bench for her comfort. She was as lovely as a dream, inhumanly beautiful and somewhat plump. Fireflies had landed in her hair like a crown. Her dress was a filmy blue fabric that clung to every bit of skin it touched and left little to the imagination. The girls had long since stopped being embarrassed by the water women, and Merinda was too respectful of them to be jealous of their beauty.

“I’m glad to see you recovered from the fight, my friends,” Celestraea said softly, her voice like watersong. Merinda set her basket down on the stone bench beside the pond, and Yvenne perched on the bench as well.

Merinda offered a pastry to Celestraea. “I’m glad we survived it, even if I don’t know what happened.”

“I think you do, Merinda,” the naiad replied, accepting the pastry and picking at it. “Yvenne does.”

“It should be obvious. You’ve got the Gift.” Yvenne poured a cup of milk and set it on the edge of the pond.

Merinda stared at her friend. She sat heavily on the bench, feeling numb. “The Gift? But… It can’t be. I was tested ages ago!”

“It is the Gift, my dear,” Celestraea said, her silvery eyes smiling. “Not much, only enough to have an affinity for one thing. With time, you could train it to be more.”

To have such a new aspect of herself thrust upon her was startling, and she’d already had enough excitement for one day. She absently shredded a roll into her lap as she mulled over this new information. At first she was afraid that Mother would send her to the City of the Gods, to train to be a mage, but here she was comforted by the naiad’s words. If it was a minor Gift, all the training she would need she’d get at Corus. Another worry: What if everyone said that she used magic to get her shield, like the meanest folk said about Lady Alanna? Then again, it was inevitable that a girl with the Gift would want to be a knight. If it had to be someone, why not her? She was already prepared for the boys and the conservatives. This would be just a different way for them to doubt and mock her.

“But… I don’t really need the Gift,” she sighed, irritated. “I’ve got everything I need to succeed. The Gift will just get in my way.”

“That is true, but not for long. You’ll come out with a tool that will make you an amazing knight for the Realm.” When Celestraea talked so calmly, it was impossible to fret. Merinda settled down and began to eat.

“Do you really think I’ll get to be a knight?”

“I do, if you train hard.”

Merinda nodded. That was already her plan. It wasn’t in her to give up before she’d even started, and they still had a year before they could go to Corus. She firmed her chin and smothered another roll with apple butter and clotted cream, then stuffed it in her mouth. When she’d eaten enough that her stomach no longer felt hollow, she wiped her face and leaned on the edge of the pond.

“Celestraea? Everything’s going to be alright, yes?”

The naiad smiled and stroked Merinda's wild, frizzy hair. “I think so, my dear. Now, to thank you for rescuing us, we Aphistides would grant each of you girls a boon.”

“Really? I mean, you don’t have to.”

Yvenne squeaked. “Havens no! We were just doing what was right and honorable!”

“Nevertheless, we naiads love to help those we favor, and you girls have been good friends and excellent protectors. What would you like?”

“Can you take away my Gift?” Merinda asked petulantly, half-joking. They all burst into soft laughter.

“No, that is beyond my ken.” The naiad was amused, her eyes sparkling in the moonlight. Merinda yawned softly.

“May we think about it?”

“Of course. Take your time. Save it for a dry day, even.”

“Thank you. And give Serenade our best. We’ll check up on her as soon as we can.”

“If you bring her some of these pastries, I’m sure she’ll perk up in no time.”

They bid each other goodnight, and the girls took the remains of their meal back into the kitchen. By the time Merinda locked the door, Celestraea was gone.

It was only when Merinda was finally settled back in her warm bed, beside Fianola, that it hit her that she had taken a life today. She cried herself to sleep.


	2. Corus at Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merinda learns control, and the pages multiply.

Bright singing from the dressing room of Merinda's new page’s suite grated on the girl’s nerves as she stood in the middle of her bedroom, hands tucked up under her armpits. The elation of finally being in page training was spoiled by the fact that she couldn’t touch anything. Ever since that summer with the satyr, strong emotions brought out her power erratically. If she didn’t want to destroy her personal possessions -- some paid dearly for from the fief’s coffers, some from her own hoarded savings -- she had to avoid unpacking and organizing them.

No, all that was left to Linsy, the maid that she and Fianola were to share during their time here. She was a jubilant, unfailingly cheerful girl of sixteen, with a high, sweet voice and rosy cheeks fit to make any girl raw with envy. Frankly, she grated on Merinda’s nerves.

Fianola didn’t mind the maid, mostly because Fianola had a well of patience that never ran dry. Merinda’s patience was constantly being tested by her Gift, so much that she wanted to pull her hair out at least once a day. Linsy, being a hearthwitch, had been supposed to teach her control, but the sickly sweet voice and attitude generally made Merinda want to gag, and she couldn’t concentrate.

They had arrived in Corus a month early just so they could address this very thing. The ride north with three noble girls, two maids, all their baggage, and a handful of men-at-arms had been made intolerable by a very bumpy wagon, blowing dust, and oppressive heat. 

The pages’s wing was at least blessedly cool. All the pages were back at their fiefs, either visiting their families or helping with the harvest. With war on the border, and only a skeleton crew in the palace to run the country, every hand was needed at home. 

The new training master, Lord Padraig haMinch, had ordered a complete renovation of the page and squire wing upon his appointment, taking advantage of the last year of Progress and the summer emptiness of the palace. Even now, there were still workers going through the rooms, putting up new white wash and laying wooden floors. According to rumors, the windows had been widened, new plumbing had been put in so that baths could be had directly in each suite, and all the courtyards had been revitalized with added access so that students could have extra practice with space. Rooms that had been shut up since the last war and its surge of new hopefuls were opened and brought up to date. All three girls had these reopened rooms.

A gentle knock on the open door shook Merinda out of her musing. She spun around, hoping it wasn’t Fianola or Yvenne, for they were in far too good a mood right now, but was in fact a man. He was Yamani, about five feet and seven inches tall, with long, straight black hair and pale brown eyes. His skin was ruddy from being outside, and part of his hair covered the right side of his face. If the scars on his hands, cheek, and lip were anything to go by, it was probably hiding something unpleasant. His nose was rather beaky, his eyebrows thick, and his ears stuck up a bit. Still, Merinda supposed he was handsome in his own rough way.

He was dressed in a folded robe that Merinda remembered from a book was called a yukata, though it had long trailing sleeves, the cotton dyed in splashes of blue that made it look like water. The obi was black, and under the yukata he wore a high-collared eastern tunic in dark blue.

The man smiled, and his teeth were slightly crooked. “Good afternoon, Page Merinda. I am Nara Shidon. It has been requested that I be your tutor in magic until you are able to join the regular magic class.”

He bowed as he introduced himself, and a moment later Merinda remembered to bow back, though she was sure she didn’t do it right. “Please come in, Master Shidon. I’m afraid I don’t yet have my tea things unpacked yet.”

Despite his rough look, Nara practically glided as he walked in a step. He paused and raised an eyebrow at the racket in the dressing room. “Perhaps we should remove ourselves to the library. It is very peaceful there.”

Merinda liked him already.

\-----

Standard meditation turned out to be a bust. Merinda had far too much energy and anxiety to sit still long enough to quiet her mind and find her core. The second day she almost had it, but it was mostly due to a lack of sleep. Being in a new bed and an unfamiliar place, with strange sounds at night, meant that she tossed and turned for hours. Instead of meditating properly, she fell asleep in the peace of the courtyard that Nara had chosen.

After a week of failing at meditation, Nara proposed that perhaps she should learn to meditate while doing a repetitive task. Something that required a great deal of energy. She was left to her own devices for a day, and the next day she met him in one of the many little courtyards.

“Were we in my home country,” Nara explained as Merinda ran from one end of the courtyard, tagged a specific stone on the wall, and then raced to the other side again. “I would have had you sitting under a waterfall until you figured this out. Sadly, there are no waterfalls nearby.”

Merinda privately thought that sitting under a waterfall wouldn’t be so bad. “There’s one by my home,” she mentioned. He whacked her on the head with a wooden fan as she passed him.

“No talking. Concentrate on making your body memorize every movement you make. Count your steps from one side to the other. Attempt to keep your steps the same on both sides.”

Inwardly grumbling, Merinda did as she was told. She was already hot, sticky, and wishing she could do this in one of the indoor practice courts. Wouldn’t swimming be just as meditative?

“You are focusing on your thoughts and your body’s needs. Stop it. Remember: Acknowledge them and let them float away from you.”

More like run away from them, she thought grimly. She ran until she was exhausted, but she did feel better. The sense of something stuck just under her sternum had lessened, and her irritability was reduced.

On another day, Nara asked her, “What is the most peaceful image you can imagine? Focus on this as you run. Try to make your inner self as peaceful as that image.”

As she focused on her breathing, pacing herself and meaningfully setting her feet on the now familiar cobbles, she tried to find what he wanted her to. Was it the waterfall at home? No. When she thought of it, she remembered all the naiads giggling and splashing, and the satyr leaking blood into the shallows. She started to feel an itch in her hands. She desperately cast her imagination out for other options. The fields around home were always busy. Winter was too full of song. The sky was too boring.

It wasn’t until three days before the first of the rest of the pages were to arrive that the picture she wanted settled into her mind. It was a cave, serene and silent, with ripples in the rock that she could look on with interest and then dismiss. In the center of the cave was a bowl of stone, and flickering inside it was fire the color and intensity of blue lightning.

_Touch. Fifteen steps. Touch. Fifteen steps._ The blue lightning was trying to get out of the bowl, branching out and hissing. _Fifteen steps. Touch._ She gentled the flickers, making them feel sleepy. The fire would be there when she needed it, but she didn’t need it right now. _Touch. Hush._ The world did not need to be constantly thrust away. Sleep, little fire. I’ll call you if I need you.

She trotted to a stop, fingertips resting on the one stone she had to have touch a thousand times. She felt good, felt herself for the first time in over a year. She turned to her mentor, to see him smiling and nodding with satisfaction. “Good. You’ve found it. Remember it from now on.”

Merinda smiled back, beaming. She was actually proud of herself, and so was someone else.

\-----

The first pages to arrive were a mix of senior pages and new ones. The girls sat in Yvenne’s room -- it being the most comfortable and with a maid that didn’t put people off sweets -- and watched boys run back and forth down the hall. Some called out greetings to friends. Others glanced into Yvenne’s room and immediately ran off to tell others. Sometimes boys were worse gossips than what they said girls were.

On the second day before everyone was set to arrive, Merinda straightened right up.

“What is it?” Yvenne said, looking at her open door, just like her friend.

“I could have sworn I saw another girl!” Merinda stood in a flash and sprinted over to the door. When she didn’t immediately see anyone, she trotted down the hall, glancing in doors.

“Looking for a real man, wench?” A boy drawled, leaning back in his desk chair as she looked in. He had to be older than her, even though this was the first years hall. He was muscled boy, with sandy hair in the pages’ bob cut, his eyes a dark brown. His face was rather pimply, and his eyebrows were too heavy for his face. She took this all in a glance.

“No, but I’ll let you know if I find one,” she quipped back, to the guffaws off some older boys clustered around a door nearby. She moved on, pushing past them, and found who she was looking for.

The girl was somewhat plump, with black hair cut chin length, a small, button nose that turned up at the tip, and black eyes tipped up in the corners. She wasn’t quite Yamani, but Merinda could tell that there was some island blood in her.

“Hullo!” Merinda felt she just had to greet another girl who was as mad as her, but a complete stranger. When those eyes lit on her, Merinda could tell this girl was intense and stoic. “It’s nice to see another girl around here.”

“Ah. Yes. I suppose that would be a comfort,” the girl said with a shrug. She offered her hand to grip forearms and Merinda happily took it. “I’m Hatine of Seajen.”

Hatine had impressive muscles in her arm. She was also taller. “Merinda of Linshart. My sister, Fianola, and Yvenne of Kels Ridge are also starting this year, too.”

“Excellent. Shall we start a study group together?”

“That would be great.” Merinda rocked on her heels. “I’ll let you unpack, but the three of us are in a row across and down the hall. Come see us whenever you like.”

“I will. Thank you for the invitation.” Hatine seemed unflappable, and Merinda was already impressed. The girl would be a tough opponent when they got to practicing.

Merinda raced back to Yvenne’s room, stopping herself on the frame. “There is another girl! Her name is Hatine of Seajen and she’s very strong. She wants to be in our study group!”

She could hardly contain her glee. They weren’t the only three crazy girls in the realm. Lady Keladry’s example was inspiring girls all over, even in such influential places as Seabeth and Seajen. And with four girls, possibly more, there was no way the boys would get away with bullying them for long.


	3. Bennett

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Switching over to one of the other main characters, who isn't quite sure if he can do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't edit this at all. I'm word vomiting at this point so that it'll get done. Eventually, with help, this will all get fleshed out and polished.

One of the new pages was not so delighted as some. Oh, he wanted to be a knight. He wanted it more than anything! He yearned to be able to protect himself and others that, like him, were small and quiet. The traumatic events of the last few months were very much fresh with him, leaving him nervous and contained. He’d closed himself up in his new room and curled up against the headboard of his bed, biting his nails and staring at nothing. It was difficult to move, to tell his limbs to take action, even for the simplest of things.

He was very pretty for a boy, with pale blonde hair cut short near his scalp, and eyes the color of new leaves, his lashes white and full. His face was slim, his lips full, and his nose a pretty curve. His eyebrows were perpetually worried. His tunic was a bit rumpled and in a pale green with sunlight yellow trim, his shirt and hose a lovely saffron, and his shoes were nowhere to be seen. He preferred for his feet to be bare. Though he was small, his fingers and toes were long enough to be out of proportion with the rest of him.

The only person he’d interacted with today had been Salma, the woman in charge of the servants here, who had helped him move his things here from a room elsewhere in the castle. That one had been high up, stuffy, with only a tiny window for air and light. He much preferred this ground floor room with it’s large window and small courtyard garden beyond.

Still, he missed his mother. He missed his pony, his pretty garden, and his nanny. Most of all, he missed that home didn’t feel safe anymore.

The bell rang indicating that all the pages had to come out into the hall. The sudden loud sound broke the boy’s paralysis, and he got up, making his way out into the hall. Supper would be soon, but first they would get sponsors from the senior pages. He stood in front of his door and watched the line of new pages. It was a motley assortment, and once they had all assembled, he counted them. Including himself, there were eight boys. Amazingly, there were five girls. Three were clumped up at one end of the hall. Two doors down from his own was a serious girl with black hair, and down past her was a girl and boy who looked rather alike, with dusty blonde hair and grey eyes. All of the boys were bigger than him, even the slim, rangy boy he knew as Cat, who'd been living in the palace for years.

The pages were even now murmuring amongst themselves. Most talk was about the girls, but he saw some glancing at him and caught things like, “... his father tried to kill him.” and “Nothing like his brother, a disgrace…”

Bennett of Stone Mountain looked at his feet, keenly ashamed. It was true that his father, Burchard, had tried to kill him a few months before, on account that Bennett’s Gift had gotten out of control and caused significant damage to the family home. His mother, Hydelia, had gotten him away from the nearly mad Burchard and to the City of the Gods, where he was allowed to heal before being taken to Corus. Despite her assurances that it wasn't his fault, Bennett did blame himself. After all, Father had been heartbroken over Joren’s death. He was still grieving, and Bennett had to go and make it worse.

Many footsteps brought his attention up and the whispering to a halt. Lord Padraig haMinch was walking down the hall from another wind, trailing senior pages like kittens. He was a very tall man, his salt and pepper hair bound back in a tail, the texture of it rather fine and floaty. The rest of him was very brown and weathered, with a hound dog face and scarred hands. Even his blue-grey tunic looked like it had been a richer color bleached in the sun and wind. At odds with this, he was smiling thinly, a pleasant and almost friendly expression.

To each side of him were handsome young men with the black hair and fine features of the house of Conté. They could only be the princes Liam and Jasson. Liam was the elder, a third year page, with a very confident and competent look to him. He had his mother’s hazel eyes, but his father’s looks. Jasson was a second year, with a sullen air about him and clever blue eyes. He kept his hands behind his back, and walked like he was stalking something.

“Good evening, boys and girls,” Lord Padraig intoned cheerfully, his voice deep and with a bit of a northern burr to it. He surveyed his new charges with the look of a proud grandfather, and Bennett felt oddly comforted by it. “You all must be very hungry, so let’s do this quickly. Sponsors!”

He pointed to the nearest boy, and they both grinned at each other. “Name?”

“Gaiden haMinch, my lord uncle,” the boy said. He was tall for his age, like his great uncle, with the same coloration.

“Who will sponsor Gaiden?”

“I will, my lord,” said a bored looking forth year that Lord Padraig announced was Arnold of Marmist. The training master looked to the next boy, the one standing beside the similar girl. “Name?”

“Conal of Meadowside, sir.” The boy was definitely impish, a glint of mischief apparent in his eyes.

“And this must be your twin sister.” He pointed to the girl beside Conal. She had the same look on her face as her twin.

“Yes, sir. Coraline of Meadowside, if it pleases you, sir.”

He raised an eyebrow at them, pegging them right away for the little troublemakers they were. “It pleases me to know that the both of you might only require a single sponsor, as I doubt I can separate you. Who will put their sanity in the hands of the twins?”

A huge hulk of a third year that looked like he could take anything thrown at him volunteered after a moment. He was Andre of Gerry, but everyone called him Bear.

The serious girl with black hair was next, Hatine of Seajen, and Lord Padraig tried to pair her with her mean-looking cousin, Hasper of Seabeth, under a single sponsor. Hasper outright refused. Hatine looked unruffled, and Liam of Conté chose to sponsor her, which surprised everyone. As if to balance things out, Jasson took Hasper.

Next was Bennett’s acquaintance, Cat, who turned out to be named Arcat of Palinet, who was sponsored by Keladry’s nephew, Lachran of Mindelan. Rahimat ibn Zafir, a stocky Bazhir with a pleasant smile and lion-gold eyes, was chosen by second year Edmund of Peacespring.

Bennett fought a nervous sigh. He was next, and the remaining boys did not all look that friendly. He was afraid that half were those who liked Joren and would pick on him for being so completely unlike his brother, and that the other half hated Joren and would disdain him for being related to him. There was probably no winning.

“Name?”

He had to wet his lips to speak. “Bennett of Stone Mountain,” he murmured.

“Who will sponsor Bennett?” Lord Padraig was a little quieter than before, but he seemed no less friendly. There was a general murmuring behind him, and Bennett could tell no one wanted him.

“Come now,” Lord Padraig chided. “Someone volunteer or I’ll pick one of you. We’ve four more yet to sponsor, and everyone is hungry.”

“I’ll do it then. We can be disgraces together.” The pages parted to show a rail thin lad at the back, his hair loose, rich brown waves about his shoulders. He was dressed in fine if subdued fashion, umber and cream, with boots that came up to mid-thigh. His blue eyes and heart shaped face were both very pretty. The training master sighed. “Alright, fine. Sefrit of Teresian will be your sponsor. Don’t let him talk your ears off.”

Sefrit stood by Bennett as the rest moved down the hall. The first Yamani-born page, Akimaru noh Kamishirou, was sponsored by fourth year Tamren of Naxen, and then it was just three girls left.The blonde Yvenne of Kels Ridge could hardly contain herself, bouncing on her heels and pulling her lips in under her teeth. The bold and cheerful Alan of Pirate’s Swoop chose her, and she let out a squeak of joy that everyone laughed at.

The sisters of Linshart, Fianola and Merinda, both got paired with fourth year Griffin of Pearlmouth.

“If we’re all acquainted, let’s go fill our bellies, kids.” Lord Padraig gestured off towards the dining hall for pages and squires. Bennett would have preferred to tag along at the very back, but Sefrit stuck towards the middle of the group now. Someone pinched Bennett’s arm hard enough to make his eyes water, but with thirty odd pages crowded together, he couldn’t tell who it was. He winced nonetheless, but didn’t make a sound.

Once everyone had food on their trays and were sat, the training master stood in front of his table. He nodded to the squires by way of greeting. “To begin, I’ll remind you that I informally do not mind being called just Padraig, and sir. Any formal situation, and you will put the Lord back on. This year we have an outstanding number of new pages, with five girls and eight boys. To you new ones, there are some ground rules that might be different from the ones your sibs and parents knew. One, hazing is not to be done. To ensure that you are not hazed, offenders will be given demerits for any improper action. Too many demerits at the end of the year, and I will give serious thought as to your fitness to be a knight of the realm.

“Two, your sponsor’s honor is your honor, and visa versa. If you get into fights, bother the servants, or cause trouble, your sponsor will share your punishment. I should hope this also encourages you older lads to keep proper behavior, to spare the first years. To those who aren’t sponsors, watch yourselves. I certainly will be.

“Three, to remind you of your service to your elders, local nobles are encouraged to send you on errands, and may even hire you to serve at their meals in the evening. Four, bathing is mandatory twice a day, once before luncheon and once before the evening meal. You have baths in your own rooms. Use of the bathhouse is now a reward, my dears, for we have put in a sauna and hired people to massage your tired muscles. Only the squires have unhindered access to it.”

He paused and took a drink. “I remind you all of the baths because some boys last year were skimping. Our noses will be glad of their return to proper cleanliness. Now, because we have girls with us, I expect all you lads to attend to what I say next, or there will be pain in your future. We are a family,” he said firmly. “We look out for each other. From now on, you all will be as brothers and sisters. You lads may one day be injured on the field of battle, with only a lady knight to defend you from the enemy. She would have more honor than I if she protected you after years of poor treatment from you. So attend!”

He smacked his table with a fist, driving the lesson home. “What are we?”

“A family,” came the rather weak reply, out of sync.

“Oh, that was pathetic. What are we?” he shouted, his battlefield voice filling the room.

“A family!” This time the call was stronger.

“Who are you to each other?”

“Brothers and sisters!” It still wasn’t entirely enthusiastic, but it seemed that Padraig would let it be tonight. He nodded curtly and sat. “Very well. Let us pray.”

Heads bowed almost as one, save for Rahimat and Akimaru. Their gods and religions were their own.

“Bright Mithros, we lend ourselves to your will. See to us as you see fit. Please bless those who work hard. Keep your hand over those in the North. Blessed Mother, please heal the wounded and soothe the grieving. May your light guide us to peace. Bless these daughters and sons of Tortall in their endeavors. So mote it be.”

“So mote,” the pages murmured, then dug into their food. Bennett actually loved the mince liver pies that few others had chosen, and the rolls were flaky, buttery, and best covered in fig jam.

His sponsor smiled at him and sighed. “Well, kid. Sorry to hear about your old man being a downer,” he said, actually sounding sorry about it. “Like I said, we’re in it together. My father has all but disowned me. And before you’re too polite to not ask me why, let’s just say that I’m the most foppish page, and likely to stay that way.”

Bennett stared at him, confused, and swallowed his mouthful of pie. “Pardon?”

“He’s a duffer,” one of the pages said disdainfully, no louder than the ambient conversation.

“What is a duffer?” Akimaru asked.

“It means he wants to marry a boy instead of a girl,” Alan explained kindly.

Akimaru frowned. “There is no shame in this. Why do you treat it as such?” he asked the rude page down the line.

“Because it’s freakish, that’s what it is.”

Several pages, mostly new ones, glared at the rude boy until he went back to his dinner. Akimaru turned his attention onto Sefrit. “It is not shameful. It is simply a path like any other. It harms no one.”

Sefrit looked as though he didn’t know how to handle the sudden support. Finally, he offered a small smile and nodded. “Thanks…”

“Hey, y’all wanna see a trick?” Cat piped up, clearly trying to distract them. They gladly turned their attention to him as he showed them some slight of hand tricks, making cutlery and coins disappear, only to reappear them in Yvenne and Merinda’s ears.

By the time everyone was released to their beds, Bennett was exhausted from the tension of the new situation. Sefrit walked him back to his room. “I like to stay in bed as often as possible,” he drawled. “But since it’s never possible, I’ll see you at the second bell after dawn. We’ll get your things set up and I’ll show you where classes are. Sounds good?”

Bennet nodded vaguely. The older boy ruffled his hair. “Buck up, kid. Life’s tough, but we’re here to get tougher. I was the littlest in my first year, too, and now I can beat any of them, even the older boys. Plus, I hear you’ve got some amazing wild magic.”

“Yeah. I mean, I guess I do.” Bennett shrugged and opened his door. “Thanks for sponsoring me.”

“No problem, kid. See you in the morning.”


	4. Just Joking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes people are plain mean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we go to Yvenne's perspective. I really tried not to write her too much, as she will likely be a big part of Fianola's story, but I can't help it. I love her. Once more, no betaing.

In the hour before lights out, the sisters and Yvenne were lounging in Fianola’s room. The older girl had a very practical set up, with little frippery or really anything too colorful, but she watched Yvenne and Merinda dance around the room indulgently.

“Can you imagine it? The Lioness’ own son!” Yvenne swooned onto the bed with a player’s exaggeration, hand to her forehead. It was a calculated play on her part to disperse any jealousies her foster sisters might have. Yvenne loved them dearly, so much that she hated when good things happened to her that didn’t also happen to them.

“Griffin of Pearlmouth is pretty interesting too,” Fianola said, making peace with Yvenne’s overdeveloped sense of fairness. “Don’t you want to go there someday?”

“Most definitely!” Yvenne sat up, eyes alight. “I hear it’s the perfect temperature year round. Oh, to live in such a place!”

She lit on the windowseat, pushing open the shutters onto the balmy evening air. The sun was still setting, brilliant hues fading to the west. A crow called nearby, alerting it’s Murder to the abandonment of half a ham shank by a rubbish pile, with meat still aplenty on it. Soon there was a ruckus as the entire group went for it. Yvenne sighed and shook her head; crows were so crude. She much preferred the company of purely predatory birds, like hawks and eagles. She so dearly wanted one of her own as a hunting partner, but she was afraid that it would be like flaunting her wealth.

“We had better get some sleep, Yvenne, if we want to be up in time to meet Alan and Griffin,” Merinda pointed out sensibly.

“But the bell hasn’t rung yet,” she pouted in return. “Can’t we talk a little more?”

“What would you like to talk about, then?” Merinda probably thought, as she usually did, that getting to bed early would bring the morning sooner. 

She thought a moment, then brightened. “What do you think of our yearmates?”

Merinda shrugged. “That boy Justin is a prat. He made a nasty comment to me yesterday.”

“We always knew there were going to be plenty of boys opposing us,” Fianola said. She was carefully sharpening her old dagger on a whetstone, just as Captain Wilsdon had taught them. “I think we’re lucky that Alan is here, and Lady Keladry’s nephew. And that Sefrit fellow seems nice enough. What’s his name of Stone Mountain seems a bit of a wet blanket, though.”

Yvenne giggled. “I was just thinking that! But then again, he could be a nice kid, too. Should we be friends with him?”

“Might as well,” Merinda said with a laugh. “We need all the friends we can get.”

\-----

After breakfast the next morning, sponsors took the first years around to all the necessary places. Griffin and Alan teamed up to take the three girls around. First they went down to the Quartermaster for gear that could be provided by the Crown. Mainly these were in the form of kits -- sewing, leather patching, first aid -- so that pages could learn to care for themselves in their rooms. Next was the palace tailors, where the girls were set up with all the uniforms they would need for the year, including the winter months. Yvenne gushed about how lovely the red and gold uniforms were.

“I’m sorry to be so excitable,” she squealed, holding up the royal golden tunic used specifically for midwinter banquets. “But getting the uniforms makes it feel so much more real, you know?”

Griffin, a lad of fourteen with skin almost as dark as a Bazhir, dark brown curls, and the most arresting teal eyes any of them had ever seen, chuckled at her enthusiasm. “Actually, I know exactly what you mean. It’s like a dream come true.”

Yvenne grinned and folded the tunic back into her pile. Fianola finally had her stack, and they all went back to the page wing to drop things off. Merinda, trailing behind them, piped up. “So why do we have a Yamani page now?”

Alan, the same age as Griffin, was only a second year, having begun his training late. It made all three of them feel better about starting late as well. He was also a wonderful wellspring of seemingly random information. “Oh, that’s part of the King’s new initiative. He started it on Progress. I believe the goal is to promote international relations by trading young folks between countries to train in their programs, the better to understand each other. Akimaru is taking the place of Jerard of Corsic, who is going over to the islands to train in their warrior ways. There’s other kids, too, like in university and in mage training. Even a pair switching in religious studies. He’s going to try to get more exchanges going, like with Carthak, Tusaine, and Tyra. If we ever establish peace with the Copper Isles and Scanra, he’ll probably try it with them, too.”

“Hmph. He can try,” Griffin said bitterly. “But it might take longer than he hopes. Tortallans won’t be happy about all that.”

“We’ve better relations with Carthak now after decades of unease,” Fianola offered, but Griffin shook his head.

“Just barely. Half the nobles still don’t agree with Emperor Kaddar’s rule, and raid us anyway. The Great Inland Sea is a hotbed of pirates and privateers right now.”

“Pirates,” Yvenne sighed, her eyes going sparkly. She still thought that privateering was a wonderfully romantic life. Griffin scowled at her. “Look here, Kels Ridge. Pirates are vicious bastards, and privateers is just another word for pirates that belong to us. No matter what, they live to ruin other people’s lives, so get those romantic thoughts out of your head right now.”

She scowled right back. “Give me a break, Pearlmouth. My only experience with them is from books.”

“Well mine isn’t. I fight them every summer.” He grinned. “If you’d like firsthand experience, you’re welcome to come help.”

At that point they got back to the girls’ rooms, and Fianola walked between Yvenne and Griffin. “Alright, you two. Let’s get all this put up and move on. Griffin, could you help me put away my kits?”

\-----

Among the changes that Padraig had implemented, one was the Schedule Books. These were little calendars drawn up by apprentice scribes, meant to keep the pages punctual. They were especially useful for second years and up, who went from the basic classes to specialized courses that better suited their individual talents. For first years, they were expected to write in their schedules every week, in order to build the habit, and were encouraged to write notes about things that weren’t necessarily educational. Yvenne loved it, especially since it gave her an excuse to use the colored inks her steward had sent her as a midwinter present when she was ten. She drew in little red hearts and blue stars, and color coded her classes. Physical classes were red, book classes were in green, and anything else was in purple. She even took note far ahead of time for when she’d serve Padraig at evening meals, which wouldn’t be until mid spring, with the costly gold ink that she would have otherwise been using to practice writing Midwinter party invitations with in lady training.

“So if you’re an heiress, why are you here?”

Jasson of Conté was leaning in her open doorway, somehow looking sleek and mullish all at once. She didn’t bother bowing, since Padraig had said they were to be brothers and sisters.

“Pardon?”

“You’re going to be a Duchess. You’re pretty enough to go into fashion in court, and smart enough to manage your estate.” Somehow the prince’s words weren’t quite the compliments they should have been. “But you’re here. All the histories say that Lady Knights don’t make noble marriages. Why waste that potential?”

Yvenne thinned her lips, absently tapping her quill against her blotter. “Lady Alanna made a noble marriage,” she pointed out.

Jasson sneered. “Please. My father made her lover a noble for services rendered. And it’s no secret that my father lets Alanna get away with so much because they used to be lovers themselves. I doubt any of you will be so lucky as that. I certainly won’t sleep with you.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Well, good. I don’t want to sleep with _you_ either.”

“So why are you here?”

There were a lot of reasons. Chiefly, this was her calling. She knew it in her bones. A bonus was that there was no one left to stop her, so she was doing exactly as she pleased. It was a bitter bonus, that it meant the loss of her family, but she justified it in thinking that she’d been too young for them to have started making plans for her, so she had no idea what they would have been. If she had to be honest with herself, she would have admitted that she had not told her steward what she was doing. He thought she was training with a fine lady in court, one on one. She’d even gone so far as to secure a lady to cover for her. It shamed her, but she was still afraid to overtax his nerves.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to go on wondering, Prince Jasson,” she finally replied. “I don’t want to answer you, and honestly it’s none of your business.”

He visibly bristled, standing up straight in the doorway. His hands went into fists. “Why you trumped up bitch--”

“Careful, Jasson,” a dark voice hissed just out of sight. “You don’t want to say anything you can’t unsay. And should she take issue with your words, I would be forced to give you a trouncing. It’s not honorable to fight someone who hasn’t been trained to it yet.”

Jasson’s look could have stripped tiles off the roof of the tallest tower in the castle, but he only growled, “Geeze, it was just a joke. Why’s everyone so gods’ blessed sensitive around here?”

He stalked off before anything further happened, and Prince Liam appeared, tight-lipped. “Sorry about that, Page Yvenne. I won’t offer an excuse for his behavior, because frankly I’m baffled by it.”

“It’s alright.” She smiled, mischief bubbling up helplessly in her. “If you don’t mind my saying so, opinions are like arseholes: Everyone has them, they usually stink, and often they’re full of shit. He’s entitled to his.”

Liam blinked at her for a moment, then burst out laughing. He shook his head and laughed more, unable to stop. She put her most innocent face on and smiled sunnily, almost idiotically at him. When he looked up and saw her, he fell all to pieces laughing harder. Rather than respond to her, he left, chortling. She listened to it fade down the hall.

Well, at least Liam wasn’t a royal pain. Maybe he’d even treat her as a friend, though she wasn’t holding her breath. Chuckling, she went back to doodling on a piece of scratch paper. Tomorrow was the first day of training, and she was filled with delight. The page was soon filled up with terrible pictures of weapons and hawks, Jasson’s rudeness forgotten.


	5. Getting Down to Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day of classes at last, and Merinda wishes things would just happen normally for once.

Merinda woke with a sense that something was not quite right. Perhaps it was the quiet giggling somewhere in the hall, fading fast. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but in the predawn air she sensed that mischief was at hand. Really, she expected it. During Progress she’d heard from a squire named Merric all about the pranks that had been paid to Lady Keladry when she was a page. Most had not been friendly. There was a reason all the girls still had doors magicked to only open to their key and name, a spell that only worked for women.

She sighed and got up, trying to be quiet so as not to wake Lindy. She opened her shutters to admit what little cool air they would get for the day and started her warm-up exercises. First some simple stretches to limber up her muscles and get the blood flowing, then push-ups to strengthen her arms. Finally, she ran from one side of her room to the other, touching the same spots each time, centering herself. She did this a little longer than usual. She’d need the extra calm if whatever trick outside was bad.

The dawn bell rang, distant and sweet. Birds were arguing in the courtyard. She looked out and spied Yvenne sitting in her window, throwing seed out onto the flags. She looked rosy-cheeked and happy after her own morning warm-up.

“Good morning!” She was chipper as always. “Just to warn you, I think the boys sabotaged our doors.”

Merinda smiled at the thoughtfulness and shrugged. “They woke me with their giggling. It won’t be a surprise.”

“Oi, what’s this about sabotage?” Down further, the dusty-colored Coraline was leaning out of her window, eyes narrowed.

“Oh, there’s no doubt there’s some nasty surprise outside the doors of all the girls,” Yvenne replied, utterly cheerful. “Watch your step.”

Coraline rolled her eyes and hopped out into the courtyard, fully dressed. “Whatever it is, I won’t play their game. But if I find out who did it, they’re in for a world of hurt.” She took herself out of the courtyard at a trot. Merinda restrained a laugh.

“Well, that’s one way to deal with it. But now I’m curious.” Yvenne dusted her hands off and disappeared into her room. A moment later, her voice came muffled in the hall, “Really? That’s not even that original!”

Merinda ran to her door and opened it a crack. The wet, sharp smell of urine permeated the hall. One of the same tricks that Lady Keladry had endured. She laughed so hard that she woke Lindy.

\-----

The first class of the day was an introduction to hand-to-hand combat with the Shang Horse, Hakuin Seastone. Merinda liked his cheerfulness, but rather hated learning to fall. The first and second years were grouped together at one end of the practice court, the third and fourth years at the other. The older pages were doing throws and punches under the watchful eye of a remarkably androgynous, stocky person with a thick black braid that nearly reached the ground. Merinda watched with curiosity while awaiting her turn to roll. She really couldn’t tell if they were male or female, and it was confusing, but she was too polite to ask.

“You are curious about the Shang Peryton, yes?” Hakuin had snuck up on her, possibly without meaning to. She yipped and a shockwave hit the dust, sending a cloud of it up into the air. Pages shrieked with surprise as it came down, covering everyone from head to toe. At the other end of the court, practice came to a halt. Merida went bright red under her coating of dust as her peers started shaking it off and hitting at their uniforms.

“I’m sorry, lass,” Hakuin murmured, helping her dust off. “I forgot not to surprise you. It won’t happen again.”

She nodded tightly, wishing to be swallowed up by the ground. “Sir? Permission to take a run?”

“Hai, go on, then. Calm your nerves.”

She raced off as soon as she had his go ahead, keeping her eyes down so that she wouldn’t have to see the others stare. She took her time going around the courts, until the bell rang to switch classes. She found the weapons practice court and slid in next to Yvenne, who hugged her comfortingly. She was as calm as she could be, under the circumstances, but the day continued to go downhill from there.

During staff practice she broke a finger and shattered her staff because of it. In archery she shot an arrow clean through the target and halfway into a wall. She was halfway tempted to refuse the horseback lessons for fear of injuring her steed, but when they got to the stables they were met by a scarecrow of a man, all plain features and straw hair.

“M’lord will be here shortly, younglings,” he said awkwardly, shifting like a nervous horse. The older pages streamed by the first years at his nod, going to saddle their own horses. Soon, Lord Padraig was striding down the hill towards them, his military-esque long coat flapping behind him.

“Hello, my hopeful equestrians,” he boomed, spreading his hands to get everyone’s attention. “I have some news. With full-blown war on the horizon, horses are very dear at the moment. It was my fear that today I would come down here to tell you that there was not thirteen new horses to be found. But we do indeed have new horses! The Wildmage Daine has done some recruiting among the wild herds, and we now have thirteen fine new beasties. Unfortunately, they won’t be here until tomorrow, and even then, you will be needing instructions in handling them that differ from normal. So for today, you get to watch muck out the stables and refill the mangers.”

There was a collective groan that he just smiled at. “Oh, quit your bellyaching. The faster you finish, the sooner you get to run back to your rooms for a proper bath. You all look like you could use it. Now, listen to Stephen like good kids, and tomorrow you’ll have the prettiest horses in Corus.”

\-----

At the noon meal, the pages of all years looked as though they’d been beaten, then laundered and hung out to dry. Padraig stood in front of his table, waiting for them to serve themselves and sit. Once they were settled, he smiled sunnily. “Apparently, some of you don’t know where your water closets are, considering the shameful mess in the first year corridor this morning. As such, everyone present, squires included, will be reporting to Mistress Salma for the next four Sundays to clean all the public latrines in the entire castle. Perhaps the next time you feel yours is not readily available, you will be capable of finding an alternate one”

He walked slowly around his table and sat. Mutterings and dark looks were traded as they dug into their food. Merinda scowled at her mutton as if it had wronged her. If she ever figured out which of the boys had caused this, she would join Coraline in dishing out pain.

After the tension of her morning classes, the afternoon’s lessons were blissfully boring. Now the pages were split up by year in a rotating schedule. The first years went from literature to maths, switching classrooms while the fourth years filtered into literature. One of their teachers, Sir Myles of Olau, mentioned that this gave the pages a more thorough education and saw to it that everyone learned the same thing. Not only that, but each page also received more individual attention in their learning. He was very good at explaining things.

When most of her year mates went to the last class in Immortals, Merinda, Yvenne, Bennett, Gaiden, and Akimaru went to mage class. She was delighted to find that their first teacher was her summer tutor, Nara Shidon. He’d set up his classroom to be very comfortable. All the chairs and desks had been pushed to the back and hidden behind a folded screen of carved sandalwood and deep red silk painted with black flowers. Piles of cushions were laid out around a long, low table. The floor had been covered by mats of woven reeds, save for a space by the door which now held a small cabinet of cubbyholes.

“Good afternoon, pages. Please remove your shoes and put them in the cabinet, then have a seat.”

Merinda toed off her soft indoor shoes and set them in a cubby, then padded over with the others. Sitting on a cushion rather than a hard-backed chair was utter bliss. She breathed in the exotic scents of sandalwood and foreign incense, and sighed happily. Much of her tension melted away.

“This is a lovely room, sensei,” Akimaru said warmly, sitting beside Merinda. His legs were folded underneath him in a way that Merinda thought would hurt, but he seemed at ease.

“What’s that mean, ‘sensei,’” Gaiden asked, sitting at the end of the table. He looked a bit too big, sitting there.

“It means ‘teacher’ in Yamani,” Nara explained. “There, any teacher may have it affixed after their name. I do not require it, though.”

Merinda smiled. “It smells nice in here. At least we won’t leave smelling too badly.”

Nara laughed softly. “Yes. I imagine you are all very tired after a long first day. Please, have some tea before we start, and something small to eat to tide you over to the evening meal.”

This made all of them perk up. Stomachs had been growling for over an hour, and supper seemed too far away. Nara poured all of them tea into tall, rough mugs that looked like a child’s present to their mother. It was only when she wrapped her hands around it did she realize the genius of the lumpy grooves in the sides; it fit her fingers perfectly, and it was the right height for cupping. The tea was very green smelling, with hints of some flower, and was not sweetened. She was polite enough to not grimace at the taste, and after a few sips it actually started to grow on her.

The food was just as strange, but wonderful. Browned dumplings filled with pork and vegetables sat next to a perfectly spicy sauce studded with sliced green onions. Cute little round cakes of sticky, dense, sweet _something_ had been rolled in toasted sesame seeds and filled with a sweet red bean paste. It was called mochi, and Merinda loved it. Large flakes of heavy, dried seaweed had been sprinkled with coarse salt, and were very addictive. They ate while Nara went over the basics of meditation, and by the time the snacks ran out the edge of hunger was gone and they felt fully capable of paying attention.

Now that he had them ready, he did an assessment of their talents. There was Merinda’s concussive power, and Yvenne’s affinity with birds. Akimaru and Gaiden had general talents, their Gifts like power waiting to take shape. Bennett, Merinda was surprised to learn, was the most powerful of them, with plant magic that outstripped known users of such. It was a wild magic, and needed great force of will to keep it under control.

Before their eyes, Bennett took a dried bean and grew it into a full stalk in the space of five minutes. Nara brought out a pot of earth for him to plant it in, then put it in one of the windows of his classroom. Merinda and the two boys with general Gifts were set to trying to make a ball of light, while Yvenne taught Nara the names of all the sparrows in the courtyard outside their rooms. The boys made a few sparks of light by the end of class, but no matter how hard Merinda tried, she couldn’t even warm the air. As the others filed out of the classroom, eager for their baths and supper, Nara cleared his throat and asked Merinda to wait a moment.

“Thank you for trying today. I know it is not easy, but you will get it someday. It’s a long, hard process, but just like becoming a knight, I know you can do it. Be patient with yourself.”

“Thank you, Master Nara,” she murmured and fled. His words did make her feel a little better, but she was glad to be away from the class. As comfortable as the environment was, she didn’t like her Gift, and hoped fervently still that it would just go away.


	6. The Root of Chivalry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Horses!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am making up a horse breed in this chapter. I figure that with Daine around, horses aren't really the same as what we have.

If Merinda felt like she was having a hard time, she probably should have talked with Bennett. He was utterly miserable. It was far too easy for the other pages to beat him down in staff training. Archery was a joke. On top of all that, the Merinda dust bath had him sneezing the rest of the morning. The afternoon classes were better, except that some of the teachers shunned him. By the time supper arrived, he was feeling only a bit better due to the calming patience of his last teacher, Nara Shidon.

Everyone was seated and waiting for Padraig to say the evening prayers. Bennett noticed that the head table was set for more than just the training master. When he did arrive, it was with the king. He waved everyone back into their seats. It wasn’t until after the meal that he finally asked for their attention.

“Good evening. Welcome back to the senior pages, and to you squires.” The king was as handsome as Bennett had been told and he frowned, but his heart wasn’t in it. “New pages, I greet you with thanks. I haven’t seen such a large number in one year in a long time. I fear that you will be sorely needed to replace those we lose in this Scanran conflict.”

“Then the war will get worse?” A squire was bold enough to question the king, but Jonathan acknowledged him with respect and nodded. “I’m afraid so. Things are winding down right now, but in the spring we foresee an even greater force gathering. We hope that you young pages will never see the fighting, but if this drags on, you may when you become squires.

“For now, though, train hard, be young, overcome hurdles. You are all stronger than you know, and you will be great.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving the pages and squires in states of inspiration. Bennett puffed himself up, determined more than ever to be better, to prove the king right. He finished off another roll and his juice, then put his dishes away.

The next morning, he found tendrils of the vines outside trying to grow into his windows, creeping past the shutters. He gently encouraged them to go back outside. He had enough problems without the gardeners getting after him.

The morning passed much the same as the day before. He got hit a lot, by the ground and other pages. He worked hard at archery, hitting the target more than before. Before they could go down to the stables, however, Padraig gathered up the first years and dragged them off to one of the pastures in use by the crown. There were two women waiting for them at the fence. One was a petite, curvy girl with wild curls, her dusky heart-shaped face full of serenity and wisdom. Even Bennett could recognize the Wildmage from her description. Also, he was pretty sure she didn’t have an eyepatch like the other woman.

She was only a little taller than Daine, with rusty brown hair in a severe bun. The eyepatch was black, the straps dividing her pale face in two, the patch resting over her right eye. The remaining eye was grey-blue. She wore riding leathers even in the hot weather, and looked as cool as the ocean in winter, arms crossed over her chest.

“This is Daine the Wildmage,” Padraig introduced, gesturing to the ladies. “And Amylie of Brightleigh, your riding instructor. She used to be a Captain with the Riders, so it is in your best interest to heed her.”

Amylie stepped off from the fence and took a stance in front of the pages. Off in the pasture, just out of clear sight, was a band of horses. “The base of Chivalry is not a romantic ideal of honor and fairness, though your other teachers might pound that into your skulls. The first knights were knights because they had something that other people did not have: Power. They had this in the form of a weapon so strong that others were more or less powerless against it. It gave them the advantages of leverage, swiftness, distance, and extra killing power. This special something was not honor, justice, or even combat training. No, the true power of a knight is their horse!”

Bennett shifted, heart pounding, trying to get a better look at the horses in the field. Amylie continued, now pacing in front of them. “Chivalry was developed to keep these mighty warriors in check. As a knight, you will have under you a several hundred pound beast that puts you heads above the common people. You will draw their eyes. They will look to you for guidance in a crisis _expressly_ because you have the big, terrifying creature that can carry you in full armor and all your weapons while still being capable of crushing an enemy’s skull in. A warhorse is not just big, it is smart. It can and will respond to the slightest twitch of your body in combat to protect you. A knight off their horse on the field of battle is a knight that is three times more likely to die.

“You will take care of these horses better than yourselves, because by the end of their lives they will have saved yours too many times to count. This is even more true these days because horses are getting smarter, thanks to Daine. If a horse does not like the treatment it is receiving, you may just find yourself out one horse. But these horses are even more capable than normal of caring for you as well. Now, I’ll turn you over to Daine to explain the situation behind your new mounts.”

She nodded curtly to them and went back to the fence. Daine stepped forward, her face earnest and serious. “Good morning, pages. I hope your training is going well. The history of these horses is rather unique. They started as part of a herd belonging to a band of centaurs up on the northern border. That band was part of the Immortals that was taken back to the Divine Realms, leaving their horses behind. The herd went feral and lived quite nicely until the recent conflict up there drove them south. They are none pleased about all that, and these young ones have volunteered to take you on.

“There’s mostly young males and a few mares. I won’t geld the stallions, but I have made the whole lot smarter at their wish, and they won’t go chasing mares on you. They’re real fine horses, so you might consider asking if they’ll stud for you later on for a fee to help outfit you.”

The pages shifted in confusion and Conal put his hand up. Daine’s eyebrows went up, but she smiled and pointed to him. “Yes, Page…?”

“Conal, m’lady, of Meadowside. Begging your pardon, but some of us might not be able to afford the price of these horses. Lots of us aren’t the first born, nor even second or third.”

Her smile went pleased as a cat’s, and on anyone less good-natured it might have been smug. “That’s alright. These horses negotiated their service directly with me. There was no bought and paid for, by the Crown, nor anybody else. They’re technically volunteers. If one of them picks you it’s as a partner, and not as a possession. Are we clear?”

“Yes, ma’am!” The pages were strong and united in their delight of free horses. Bennett wondered if some of them didn’t quite yet realize the significance of horses that got themselves hired by people.

“It’s your own fault if they decide to leave you, and you can’t go to anyone claiming recompense. Lose this horse to incompetence and you’re responsible for the next one’s gaining. Understand?”

Another ringing agreement, but the pages were practically vibrating to meet the horses. Daine sighed, shook her head, and gestured to the fence. “Up and over, pages. Treat them respectfully.”

Bennett clambered over the fence just as fast as the rest of them. The adults were among them after a moment. At Daine’s direction, they all spread out, accepting the treats she handed them. Across the pasture a horse called and shook out their mane, and that set them all moving sedately towards the pages.

As they neared, Bennett could see more details. They were mostly dark horses, some solid blacks or roans, with a couple bays and dapples. The manes on them were remarkable in that they were tightly waved, long and beautiful. Their gait was smooth as silk, legs feathered and sturdy. In terms of body type, they were all of them coursers and rouncies, none big enough to be destriers. They all looked healthy and alert, and the bright gleam of intelligence burned in their eyes as they studied the pages in turn.

Right away, Bennett was drawn to a dappled grey that looked like snow falling against bruise-dark clouds. The stallion had a white nose and socks, and his mane was just as black as all the others had. Bennett tried to pass Hasper and Justin to get to the steed, but they blocked his path while chuckling. When he tried to go around them, they bumped and nudged him until he near about fell over, all the while saying things like “Oops” and “So sorry.”

When they did knock him down, the dapple gave an angry whinny and charged over, shouldering the two boys aside and standing over Bennett until they went away. Only once they were among the other horses did the stallion start nosing Bennett all over to make sure he wasn’t hurt. Bennett laughed and gave him all the treats he had.

“He says you look so light it will be no work at all to carry you about.” Daine had approached unnoticed, a smile on her face.

“Oh? Oh! Well, I suppose that’s true.” Bennett got up, offering his hand to the dapple to nose, which he did. “What’s his name?”

“Moonsparks, but he says you can call him by a nickname if you like.”

Bennett stroked the stallion’s shoulder, enjoying the course velvet coat. He was so much bigger than his old pony, Tinger. “Is Sparks okay?”

Sparks nodded, nose flashing up and down. Bennett was absolutely delighted.

Once everyone was partnered up with a horse, and the remainder had moved back out into the pasture, Padraig ordered everyone back to the stables. The horses needed no leads; each walked next to their page, their fine arched necks held proud.

Like the page wing in the palace, the stables for the pages’ horses had had to reclaim space that had been given over to storage. The wing of stalls they got their horses settled in still smelled of pine and oak, dusty stone, and distinct lack of horse scent. The saddles were in poor but not irreparable condition. They were to work with experts over the next few days to repair and refurbish their own saddles and tack. They wouldn’t even be riding until next week. All of this was made necessary by this new war, when the pages who started the year before had not needed to do so. All the best and even moderately good supplies were going north even now to supply soldiers.

None of the pages complained. Those who normally might have were all from fiefs that saw the worst of battle on a yearly basis, and the rest were too sensible or obedient to do so. Everyone brushed down their horses until they shone, and they semi-feral horses were delighted by their attention. It took all the remaining time in the hour, for they’d never been groomed before.

“I bet you were born in the wild, huh Sparks?” Bennett murmured as he leaned into the brush. He had to fetch a stool to get Sparks’ back. “No more burrs and snarls for you. As long as you don’t mind getting shod, I think we’ll get on famously.”

Sparks whickered agreement and nodded again, pawing the fresh straw. Helping to shoe their mounts was another lesson they were to have before riding them. After a thorough brushing, Bennett found leather ties and showed them to Sparks. “I’ve a mind to braid your mane and tail. It’d keep them from getting tangled again.”

Sparks gave him a quizzical noise and sniffed the ties, then tipped his head in question, a very unhorselike gesture. Goosebumps raised the hair on Bennett’s arms. “Ah, I’ll show you! One moment.”

He trotted down to the stall with Yvenne and her horse, which by the chalked in slate beside the door named him Yuliast, and knocked carefully against the wood. “Yvenne? Might I ask a favor?”

She looked over the top of the black monster in the stall and smiled. “What can I do for you, Ben?”

He blushed, but was made bold for the sake of another. “I want to braid my horse’s mane, but he doesn’t know what a braid is. May I show him your hair so that he understands?”

“Oh, sure!” She was easy about the request as she would be about anything simple enough. She patted Yuliast’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

“Thanks.” Relief made him smile, and they turned to his horse’s stall. Sparks had stuck his head out of the door and he watched them with curiosity. Yvenne smiled and turned, letting him see her hair. Bennett explained it to him. “This is a braid, Sparks. We take sections of hair and put them one over the other to keep it in one place.”

“And it can easily be undone,” Yvenne assured him, taking the tie out of her hair and shaking the braid loose. “But only when you want it to.”

Sparks made what Bennett hoped was a sound of revelation and nodded, so Bennett ducked back past him to get to work. “Thanks again, Yvenne!”

“No problem.”

Two simple braids later and it was time to head up for luncheon. As they left the stall, Daine stopped Bennett and Yvenne. “That was smartly done, explaining to Moonsparks about the braid. Thank you for being so patient with them.”

The two pages blushed; it was hard not to when someone like Daine took notice. “They’re like a dream,” Yvenne said, eyes alight with wonder. “It’s like having every magical horse I ever wanted.”

Daine chuckled softly. “Well, treat them well and they’ll stick with you.”

They promised to, then excused themselves and ran to catch up with the others.

“She’s the loveliest person I’ve ever met,” Yvenne panted as they topped the hill. “Sometimes I wish I could talk to horses, too, but I’m happy with birds.”

“At least you can talk to animals,” he drawled. “Plants aren’t necessarily the most fascinating of conversationalists.”

She smiled and looked up at the clouds. “Well. Maybe someday they’ll have something worth saying.”

“Huh. Can’t fault that logic.”


	7. Something Stirring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As autumn passes, there are pranks, bullying, and the promise of Midwinter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I did get information that Alan of Pirate's Swoop takes his page training in Port Legann, and oops! But I like him being Yvenne's sponsor, so I'm keeping it in. No fanfic was ever 100% accurate.

In the next week the new pages settled into their routine. Merinda only had one more accident, Bennett stopped feeling sorry for himself once the utter exhaustion began to sap his strength, and Yvenne flourished in a way that Merinda would have hated if only she could get up the energy. The whole group of them certainly got an education in their riding class. After they had finished repairing their saddles, they were dragged off to the farrier, where they tried their hands at making horseshoes. Only when they had made one that at least resembled a horseshoe and had learned how difficult it was were they hauled back to their mounts to assist the stablehands in getting the horses properly shod. Several of them sported burns by this point, but they grimly kept up.

Only now that their tack was in repair did they have the option to buy their own. Chief malcontent of the repairs had been Justin of Legann, but he turned sweet when his father purchased him a fine saddle. Arcat, who’d brought his regular saddle from home, murmured to Bennett in a whisper how grand Justin would be until his saddle sores showed up. Even rich Yvenne chose to keep her repaired one, not out of solidarity with her foster sisters, who couldn’t afford new gear, but out of practicality. She was too new to riding to risk her backside to a new saddle, in her opinion.

Once in their saddles, however, and no matter their individual skill levels, they always moved as a band. When Amylie took them out on a gallop, their fine mounts kept near to each other and turned as they would, like a flock of birds. Though it delighted the pages, their teachers were not pleased. Such lack of discipline would need correction. The horses had to respond to their riders instead of each other if they were to flourish.

Inevitably, Justin got saddle sores, and he complained about it until they all wanted to shout at him. Even this early, though, they’d learned that Justin just became more intolerable after being shouted at.

The pranks didn’t stop just because everyone had latrine duty for a month. Yvenne, Merinda, and Coraline had the same courtyard outside their doors and were all early risers. They liked to open their shutters to the morning air. Coraline was a bit difficult to speak to, as likely as not her twin was with her. They were both intensely sarcastic and liked to play pranks as well. Someone -- Yvenne thought it was the older boys across the courtyard -- had discovered Coraline’s love of throwing the shutters open with abandon. When the screeching one morning drew everyone to their windows, Yvenne and Merinda were unfortunate enough to discover why Coraline was shrieking and cussing: Buckets of watered down molasses poured over the two girls’ heads. It was still thick enough to be intensely sticky.

A giggle across the yard and motion at a window wasn’t enough warning. A string was pulled and baskets of goose down drifted around them like snow. Now everyone was looking out their windows, many of the boy pages laughing uproariously. Coraline disappeared and returned with a naked sword in her hand. Her face promised blood, and Merinda wasn’t too proud to catch the girl’s attention and point to the window where the string was still looped over the shutters. They were still closed. Enraged, Coraline rushed over and began hacking at the wood with her sword.

Eventually the guard had to pry her out of the yard into the neighboring one, where Padraig ordered her dumped in the pond. None of the servants had wanted to risk the blade, even if it was wielded by a flailing ten year old covered in feathers. She went in screaming, but once Padraig had shouted her down, she stopped. She was in a sorrier state that Merinda and Yvenne, dripping water and weeds on top of the molasses and feathers.

Her sword was confiscated and sweets were banned until midwinter for all pages. They were lectured scathingly and at length that night, until everyone wanted to pull out their hair in frustration and go to bed. When they did reach their rooms, all pillows and mattresses featuring goose down had been replaced with ones of straw.

The next day they were tired, itchy, and way behind on their written work. Several scuffles broke out during Shang training among the senior pages, and the twins Coraline and Conal purposely went after fingers in staff training. Everyone but Hatine got punishment assignments in afternoon classes; she was ahead in her studies, and she had a cool stoicism about her that Yvenne envied and swooned over.

Pranks stopped for a fortnight, and then returned in the form of dead animals showing up in the girls’ gear randomly. One day it was a dead pigeon, half cat-eaten, in Yvenne’s saddlebag. The next was a lizard that had been slipped into Fianola’s bookbag. Hatine received a handful of poisoned mice slipped into her clothes before her maid picked them up from the laundry. Coraline got a dozen fish heads piled in front of her window, probably a dig at her visit with the pond. The worst was reserved for Merinda, who got a cut up, bloody rat lobbed at her head while she was passing an area with a line of balconies. She never saw who did it, but guessed that it was a message about pointing out the string.

The animals weren’t public acts, and the girls didn’t mention them to any adults, so they went unpunished. Fianola pointed out that the majority of the boys would be just as angry at them for getting another group punishment as they would be at the bullies.

At first, Yvenne wanted to report every slight, as Padraig had told them to, but… it felt too much like whinging when she thought about it. If only there was an anonymous way to tell her complaints and worries without fear of being dishonorable in the eyes of her peers.

Right about the time their latrine punishments were coming to an end, the squires that were to sit their Ordeal at midwinter began to arrive, chiefly Keladry of Mindelan. Yvenne was in spasms of joy and anxiety, the former because she wanted to meet her hero again, the latter for worry about the Ordeal.

“What if she doesn’t make it,” she whispered nervously, clinging to Merinda as they waited their turns at the archery targets in late October. The weather had finally cooled off, and clouds scudded across the sky. Merinda sighed. “Yvenne, that’s the hundredth time you’ve asked. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

“But if she fails, then no one will believe in our right to be here. They’ll kick us out.” She barely watched as Merinda shot almost the center of the target.

Merinda shot off another arrow, challenging herself with the breeze. “Then we’ll become Riders in a few years, or see if the Queen wants us, or even go to Carthak to be ladies for the Empress,” she said calmly, even if her shot went awry.

“It won’t be the same,” Yvenne squeaked, barely able to keep her tone in polite realms. “If they try to kick us out, I’m going to sue. We have our rights.”

“Kels Ridge!” the archery master barked. “Stop fretting yourself silly and get to shooting!”

The pages were kept far too busy to catch a glimpse of Keladry. Most of them had learned how to fall correctly, and were perfecting throwing each other. Staffwork grew more complicated, and the archery master was encouraging them to shoot faster. The horses were getting used to taking commands.

“What do you think we should call them?” Cat asked at lunch one day. Sometimes they had lunch out in the pastures with the Riders, since work with the horses was intensive and Amylie wanted them to be a unified group.

“Who?” Hasper of Seabeth wasn’t the brightest boy, and he didn’t like talking when the girls were around. Yvenne suspected that he was an avid participant of the pranks.

“The horses,” Cat replied, gesturing to the band that was eagerly cropping grass. “I mean, we classify warhorses in three different ways. You’ve got the destrier, which is the smartest, most trained and vicious, and biggest. Then the slightly smaller courser, good in armies and general fighting, and the rouncey, the smallest but swiftest and generally cleverest. But our mounts don’t really fit in those categories. They’re smarter than destriers, but their size doesn’t really matter. They can fight and run, they’ve a good wind, even if they aren’t as good as the Rider ponies. They need a new classification.”

They traded words around, from the patriotic “Tortallan charger” to the silly “Smarties”, and lunch was almost over when Hatine spoke up. “Vubians,” she said, calm as anything. “From two of the K’miri Horse Lords.”

She picked up her bowl and cup, then left without another word. They pondered the name.

“I love it,” Cat finally pronounced. “It honors our Queen and her gods.”

“Not to mention it sounds good,” Conal chuckled. “Which is important.”

Rahimat got up. “And it shouldn’t specify size beyond anything bigger than a rouncey. The real requirement is the intelligence on a level with what the Wildmage can grant.”

There was quiet as they picked themselves up, considering the horses. Merinda voiced the question some of them had been wondering. “Do you think their children will inherit it?”

No one knew that, so they ran off to wash up before afternoon classes. Most of them were struggling in those save for Hatine, Aki, and Bennett. Punishment work had piled up enough that they were resigned to it. The only one that was blissfully happy was Yvenne, for Nara had learned of her love of birds of prey and sent her to the mews to work with the birds there. Even getting shat on by sick falcons could not dampen her spirits.

With the approaching midwinter holidays, Master Oakbridge pounded etiquette into them despite the fact that they wouldn’t be serving, just passing platters. Apparently, the last time a girl was a page, disaster had reigned at Midwinter Feasts. To compensate for the now multitude of girls, he made sure every single page was capable of serving even the monarchs themselves.

Their health teacher, Lady Cara of Leston, took pity on them and let them use her class period to catch up on assignments, stating that overtaxing them with stress wasn’t healthy. They’d already completed her basic medicinal herbs module, and hers was widely considered to be the easiest class. Mostly she was there to be a friendly face and teach them about their bodies when the time was right. Not all nobles taught their children that, and Padraig wanted to be sure that, with mingled sexes and his inability to monitor them every moment, they should at least be aware of all the ways to stay safe.

The students without punishment work spent the time in further study. Yvenne slowly caught up with them, vowing that she would keep herself out of extra assignments until the end of the year. It made Merinda laugh, because she knew that was impossible. Merinda had gotten into her first fight, with Rahimat of all people, when she’d tried to calm him after a loss in hand-to-hand. His pride was doubly hurt and he reacted without thinking, and then their training had taken over. She still had a black eye and he was favoring a fractured toe, which the healer had said was minor enough that he could suffer it. They would be recovered by the time midwinter rolled around.

Merinda was just relieved that she hadn’t concussed his entire foot off with her gift. She thought that maybe Rahimat was as well.

When the weather went from balmy and perfect to cold and blustery, their bedding was returned to normal. Merinda and her friends declared the sudden luxury bliss and spent a few nights studying privately on their own lovely beds. The sudden good fortune was marred shortly thereafter by Gaiden haMinch, who’d figured out a spell that tripped people from a distance. He used it assiduously to entertain his friends, Justin and Hasper, and to impress some of the nastier senior pages by tripping the girls in ways that were more than just a fall. Often it was when they had their hands full at meals or with books, so that they didn’t have an easy time trying to break their falls correctly.

Once Padraig had determined this was not simply a bout of sudden clumsiness, he investigated. In the meantime, their running assignments had been doubled. The day before midwinter started, Padraig called his nephew up after breakfast. Gaiden didn’t show up to morning classes, and it was only in the afternoon that they learned he’d been suspended until January. He was to be under house arrest at his family’s townhouse, without any holiday fun.

“He should have gotten his nose broken and have done with it,” Coraline muttered darkly to Conal within Merinda’s hearing. Sometimes she worried that the twins were too violent to be knights, but perhaps they’d level out as they grew older.

It was during midwinter that Merinda learned that the twins were technically from Tusaine. The fief of Meadowside was on the border between the two countries, and changed lands at least once a generation. Their parents had technically been Tortallan for a few decades, and hand a more progressive view of their daughter’s future. Tusaine was still very conservative, but with so much power in the hands of the nobles, there was no real way to tell the lord and lady of Meadowside no.

Merinda would have liked Coraline, except that the twins were fond of picking on others. They would tease Bennett, confuse Akimaru, and be racist towards Rahimat. Merinda didn’t like it, and maybe someday she’d put them to the sword for it, but they never got physical like Justin and his friends, or the even the senior pages did. She was still trying to figure out what a noble’s honor meant to her. How much she should defend people without hurting their own honor? How much should she let someone fight their own fights?

After all of Master Oakbridge’s theatrics, serving at midwinter was remarkably dull. Standing in their finest uniforms -- which Yvenne was utterly in love with -- they passed platters to senior pages and tried to catch glimpses of the great hall beyond.

The highlight of the holidays were, of course, the presents. Merinda and Fianola’s mother had sent all three girls a taste of home in the form of large tins of holiday treats. They were so fresh they were still soft, and the girls were puzzled until they read the attached notes. Lady Sandela was in Corus visiting her sister, Lorraine of Neese. Neese was a rather newer fiefdom, and well-off enough to afford a house in town. Aunt Lorraine was a sweet woman, but a little on the scattered side. Her presents were kidskin gloves lined in rabbit fur, and winter cloaks of royal red with golden fox trim, made by the premiere seamstress in Corus. Apparently when she’d heard she was making things for lady pages, she’d halved the price.

Bennett actually gave the three girls gifts of little pots of seedlings. His note revealed that they were flowers he’d spelled to change colors throughout the year. The most interesting gifts, however, had no known giver. In envelopes of creamy vellum, all five girls found vouchers to Raven Armory.

That afternoon at lunch, Lady Sandela and Lady Lorraine showed up at the pages’ dining hall to eat with Padraig and discuss how the training was going. At first the girls were embarrassed, but they had missed Sandela’s goodness and common sense. When the meal was ended, Padraig gave them time to visit. Holed up in Fianola’s room, the girls hugged Sandela and kissed her cheeks until she laughed.

“Did you miss me so much as that?”

“How could we not miss you?” Merinda asked, alight with happiness. “We might be here for our future, but we still love you.”

“How long are you staying?” Fianola had grown a full two inches since they’d left home, and now came up to their mother’s chin.

“Until spring. I figured that I would let Aiden and Kassima try their hands at managing the fief over the winter.” This was their eldest sibling, their brother and his wife. Kassima was Bazhir, and the story of them falling in love was a family favorite, especially with the household being mostly girls with at least some romantic notion. Aiden was a knight and when he’d gone into the desert assisting the King’s Own, well. They told the tale wonderfully.

With their mother in town, the girls were on their best behavior. They even got permission from Padraig to be at the Chapel of the Ordeal at dawn on the last night. They watched Lady Keladry come out unscathed and sane, and breathed a deep sigh of relief. When she was knighted that night, they cheered as loudly as they could, and could talk about little else than her for days afterward. At that time, it felt good to be a lady page going for a shield with a distaff border.


	8. Swordwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yvenne gains a friend, Merinda is skittish, and Bennett worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long time between chapters. The holidays are what they are.

As soon as the winter had brought its teeth into the weather and some of the practice had been brought indoors, the first years started learning the sword. The second years had already been back to practicing after they’d assured their teachers they hadn’t forgotten the staff, but this was new for Merinda and her peers. Predictably, Coraline was eager to learn. Too eager. She wielded the wooden practice sword as she had the live one on the shutters, hacking about with little finesse. Yvenne took to it as determinedly as she did everything else and soon excelled, and Hatine worked with a contained grace that said she’d done this many times before. 

Merinda, cautious of her power, took more time than the others to work the forms out slowly. Her usual partner, Bennett, didn’t mind at all. He acted as if the sword was going to bite him, flinching every time he struck at her. Sergeant Idrich Smithing, their general swordmaster, worked carefully with the two and did it as well as he could. Padraig’s policy was that each child learned differently, and that ham-handedly pounding the exact same skills into everyone was a mistake that would prove deadly in the future. She didn’t know what the third and fourth years were learning, but she never heard them complain about it overmuch.

“Good,” Smithing encouraged Bennett for the dozenth time when the boy didn’t flinch, his voice only slightly tense. He had the general coloring and build of a Scanran berserker, with the endless patience of a wolf. The giant of a man was capable of utter gentleness with those big, callused hands, and his storm blue eyes were incredibly observant. He wore his wavy ash blonde hair in a queue down his back, reaching near to his waist. The Shangs teased him that his hair made for an excellent rope to grab him by, but they could never convince him to cut it. His voice was like the morning, clear and pure, with a fine timbre and no hint of any kind of accent. He had a talent for making the young pages feel like he had utter confidence in them.

Bennett smiled weakly, looking a bit green. “I know I’ll get it eventually,” he said, trying to reassure the Sergeant. “I will.”

Smithing patted Bennett’s back and went to pay attention to another pair. Merinda gave Bennett a thin-lipped smile. “At least we’re the worst in the class. It makes everyone else feel better about themselves.”

Bennett grimaced and brought the wooden sword down a little harder than before. Merinda grinned and returned the strike for his block.

\-----

The snow was annoying but the mud when it melted was worse. A late freeze then turned all the mud to slippery ice. Padraig had them use the chance to strap on additions to their boots that were studded with nails so they could get used to fighting on ice, which absolutely no one liked, especially when he had them looking up half the time at imaginary spidrens. Bennett was miserable and lethargic, as he had been all winter, and fell hard enough to break his elbow and tailbone. He had a concussion, but after a visit to the healers he was only in bed a day.

Still a bit tender after, he was allowed to watch morning practices and was not permitted to ride Sparks for an additional two days.

The biggest excitement among them during the return of the mud was Yvenne getting her first bird of prey.

The morning was still chilly in the predawn air. With the clearing of the weather, Yvenne and her foster sisters tended to rise early and do a run over the castle walls. Bennett, Aki, and Rahimut joined them within a week, then Hatine and Cat. During one of these runs, when they were walking off a long sprint past the Forest, Yvenne halted suddenly and went to the crenellations. She was tense, gaze fixed on the treeline. Somewhere nearby, she could hear the cries of an injured bird of prey.

Before the others could even ask her what had caught her attention, she was racing for the nearest stairway down and then towards the postern gate that was closest. After a moment, the rest followed.

“She’s gone mad,” Cat despaired, a bit pale. “I always knew she would.”

“Oh, shut up!” Merinda bumped him with her shoulder and put her extra running to use, easily getting ahead of the rest. Yvenne had been right; Merinda was the fastest of them. Still, she didn’t reach Yvenne by the time the girl disappeared into the trees. Merinda stopped, bracing against the trunk of an oak, and peered in. “Yvenne?”

A bird’s screeching filled the air for a moment, and Merinda followed it, worried that Yvenne might be in trouble with an immortal. It was stupid, really, to rush in with no weapons, but she knew that Yvenne would do the same for her. Fortunately, when she did find Yvenne, the girl was soothing a young, distressed kestrel in her lap. The rest of the pages caught up a moment later, and Cat groaned. “Of course she’d hare off after a bird.”

“Shhh!” Rahimat shushed Cat and Aki elbowed him too. All of them were fascinated by the tiny bird of prey.

“Winter’s been hard for him,” Yvenne explained. “He’s not hardly the weight he should be.”

“Are you going to keep him?” Bennett had the look of delight on his face.

Yvenne bit her bottom lip, then nodded. “The least I can do is take him to the mews to feed him up.”

After she’d explained to the kestrel, he consented to perch on her shoulder, all fluffed up against the cold. The rest had to run back as they heard the first bell of the morning, but Yvenne walked, heading for the place she spent most of her free time.

\-----

Since Daine had been around the palace, many changes had been made for the comfort of animals. The old stone mews from King Roald’s day was now a place for recovering birds to heal up in. The new building was more like a stable with individual stalls for the birds and free access to a small forest and all the kitchen gardens. Instead of hooding the birds and forcing them to sleep, King Jonathon’s birds were free to hunt on the palace grounds, especially where pests were. They were fed in addition to this, but it was only supplemental.

Yvenne took the little kestrel, who said his name was Pip, to the old mews, explaining that it was a big safe nest. None of the other birds was going to come after Pip, and he wasn’t to attack anyone else either. She got him settled on a perch and found strips of fatty chicken meat to carefully feed him until his crop was full.

The sound of the breakfast bell came just as she was leaving, and she ran to get to the dining hall. She was late, but by only five minutes, and Padraig had guests so he was in a mood to be charitable. At the end of breakfast, however, he called her up.

“I heard that you rescued a kestrel from the forest this morning.”

“Yes, sir. I took him to the mews to recover. He was underweight and scared.” Yvenne was at her most professional, or at least was trying to be.

“Although pets are not allowed under the old rules, I must say that animals in the palace are hardly pets anymore. I also understand that your mage lessons are in falconry. I expect you to take charge of this bird and get him back to health. If he agrees to be your hunting partner, then he will be your responsibility until he chooses to be wild again. You are not to collect any other birds. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir!” Yvenne could hardly contain her joy. Even accounting for the fact that she would have next to no free time until Pip was healed, there was no ruining her mood. All she’d ever asked for for Midwinter since she was a child was a bird of her own.

“Good. Dismissed.”

Yvenne raced away, and he didn’t discourage it. Exercise was exercise, after all.

When she’d gone, Bennett poked his head in. “Um, excuse me, Padraig? May I talk to you?”

The training master smiled. “Ah, Bennett. Come on in.”

It was taking all of Bennett’s courage to do this, but he was terribly concerned about himself, and since his mum couldn’t stand up for him here, he had to. He straightened his spine as he approached, and took a deep breath. “Sir, I’ve been concerned about my progress in swordwork. I’ve written my mother, and she’s suggested that I ask after a tutor, one that appeals to my build and style. I mean no disrespect to you, sir. Your training is excellent. I just… Well, I don’t chop at people easily.”

Padraig took a long moment, studying the boy. He looked small and fragile, but Padraig knew he was already building up important muscle. Not for the first time, he wondered if he shouldn’t shuttle the boy up to the City of the Gods and let him learn to just control that awesome plant magic of his.

“Are you sure you’d like to continue page training, Bennett?” He wanted to make sure of the boy again. Perhaps his previous conviction was flagging a little.

Bennett blanched, eyes going wide, but nodded firmly. “Yes, sir.”

Padraig sighed and shifted his mug on the table. “Very well. But I don’t want you getting a tutor. Stick it out until your third year and then you’ll be put into specialized training for your style. You still need the basics as a building base for other weapons. Don’t give up on yourself, young man.”

Bennett smiled in response to Padraig’s reassurance, even though his relief was only partial. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

He left the mess hall feeling a little let down. It wasn’t the response he’d hoped for, but it wasn’t what he’d feared, either. Perhaps he should take Merinda’s example and practice more in his spare time. Perhaps he could bribe an older page to teach him in the style he wanted.

Turning a corner, he ran into Arcat, leaning against a wall and grinning like a fox. “Heyya, Ben. I hope you don’t mind, but I was blatantly eavesdropping on you.”

Bennett scowled at his friend and the bad habit he had of spying on people. There was no way to get around it, really. He was quiet as the dead and seemed to be able to make himself invisible without magic. Cat sauntered over to him and slung an arm around his shoulders. “Now, no need for all that. I think I can help you with your problem. You see, I’ve been learning swordwork since I was little, and it’s the same style you want to be using. I meet with some of the older pages and my old tutor three mornings a week and work on swordplay. You’re welcome to join us.”

He could hardly believe his luck, but he still looked at Cat warily. “It doesn’t cost anything, does it?”

While his mother hadn’t come out and said it, he was beginning to suspect that father had cut her, and by extension Bennett, off from the family finances. Mother was probably dipping into her own dowry to pay for Bennett’s gear. She didn’t have any daughters to pass it onto, but Bennett hated to think of her having to do such a thing. And if she wasn’t, he prayed that she wasn’t beggaring herself to money lenders that she’d not be able to repay.

“No, of course not! And even Prince Jasson joins us. We’re all slight, quick fellows that need all the advantage we can get against these bruisers.” He gently shook Bennett’s shoulders as they made their way to the practice fields.

“Alright then. I’ll join you.”

“Good! We meet Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, in the hour before the last call for waking up.”


	9. Conflict

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War starts, the pages pass exams, and they all go off on the summer training camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!

As soon as was humanly possible, Corus became a beehive of activity in preparation of the army marching to the north. As part of their training, the senior pages were assisting in the supply chain, loading wagons and cleaning armor even when they weren’t being punished. The first years were given brief respite from assignments in order to add to the force of message runners. Merinda was very successful in this, and was kept hoping even at supper, for it was her turn to serve Padraig at supper.

It was fine practice. Padraig was a friendly man and often had guests, which made him even more amiable than normal. One night he even had Prince Roald and Princess Shinkokami at his table, along with one of her handmaidens. Merinda was fascinated, but was ever vigilant in her duty. She had no wish to disappoint her training master.

On that night she learned that the Prince and Princess had decided to put off their wedding in deference to the impending war. Afterwards, she mentioned this to her study group and everyone went very quiet.

“So it really is going to be a war,” Griffin muttered, looking grave.

“Some of the squires that are still here said that Maggot is King now,” Sefrit said seriously. “Of course it’s going to be a war.”

A few of the pages sighed with longing. They were wishing they could be older so they could go to battle. It made Merinda sick. She happened to lock eyes with Hatine, who looked disgusted. 

“‘War is the eater of men,’” the normally quiet girl quoted, putting her stubborn chin up. “‘It maims all it can, and spares not a single soul.’”

That made them think a little. Hatine was always good for that.

“We’d better get back to work,” Fianola finally said, reminding everyone that assignments were suspended and that they still had duties. Most of them had volunteered their free time. They all trickled out of the library, thinking very hard. Some of them had family that would be fighting. Merinda knew that Hatine was likely very worried about her family. Seabeth and Seajen were popular targets for Scanran raiders and pirates.

Trotting off into the palace complex in search of work, Merinda thought about the nature of war as well. Someday she would have to likely fight in a war too. She would kill and maim others, or be killed or maimed herself. She still had the option to quit and become a gentler noble lady, but the idea made her shake her head. No, she’d thought this through long and hard, and being a knight was what she really wanted. It wasn’t the violence that excited her, but the opportunity to be an asset to the kingdom in a way that would guarantee her independence.

She didn’t quite know why that was so important to her. After all, her father had been a loving and generous man, and he’d never imposed his will on his wife. He’d been of a scholarly bent, and Mother had always been the one to run the fief. It was completely possible to marry a nobleman and still have independence.

Maybe it wasn’t as simple a reason as an experience. Perhaps she was just built this way, or the Great Mother had an influence over her, like Lady Alanna.

“You there, page?” The voice was pleasant and held authority, and yet was still hesitant. It brought Merinda up out of her thoughts and she skidded to a halt, looking down the hall. She hadn’t gone very far from the pages’ wing. She was utterly shocked to find that the woman who hailed her was in fact Keladry of Mindelan, Lady Knight. “I need this delivered to the armory, please.”

Merinda, trying to hide her utter glee, trotted over to Keladry and bowed. When she came up, Keladry’s eyebrows went up. “Well! I remember you, from Progress, right? Fianola?”

“That’s my older sister, who’s here too. I’m Merinda, my lady.”

“Oh. You two look much alike. And look at you, pages.” Keladry smiled. “I heard that there are five girls this year.”

“Yes, my lady,” Merinda replied with an answering smile. “Yvenne is here, and two others. Hatine of Seajen and Coraline of Meadowside.”

“And how is your training master treating you?” Keladry looked very serious about the question, and almost nervous.

“Lord Padraig is very fair. He tries to make us all into brothers and sisters. Most of the time it works.” She grinned and wrinkled her nose.

“Good. Well, I would talk with you more, but I’m afraid I am very busy.” She handed over a folded up letter hastily sealed. “This needs to go to Master Omrich in the armory, and no one else.”

“Right away, my lady,” Merinda said, practically breathless with admiration. She bowed again and raced off, heart pounding. Lady Keladry was so perfect! She was tall, muscled, and yet as handsome a woman as there ever was! Merinda could barely breathe around her desire to be like Keladry, doubts fled from her mind completely. She could tell that she’d made her hero proud just by being here!

\-----

By the end of March, the entirety of the army had gone north, taking Lady Keladry off with it, and so many of the realm’s knights that the fourth year pages looked grim. The chances of being chosen by anyone they hoped for once they were squires grew more and more slim.

Being back to their normal schedules wasn’t so easy, with everyone keeping one eye to the north. The first years were finally bringing in their horses to train alongside the senior pages, and were introduced to tilting. They were a little late to it, but their bonds with the special horses made up for it a bit. Still, all of them seemed to have a permanent bruise on their backs for weeks. It took their minds off the fact that war had officially been declared.

When news came back that Lady Keladry had been posted as a glorified babysitter, even Hatine was angry for her. Yvenne was beyond rage, and in protest attempted to boycott all weapons practice.

“Why bother teaching me if all you’re going to do is post me in a place that is away from the fight?” She tried to argue even with the training master, but he was unruffled.

“If you feel that way, little mistress,” he responded calmly and solicitously, like he would to a little girl being brought up gently. “You are more than welcome to pack your things and leave.”

For a moment, Yvenne tried to match wills with Padraig, but she couldn’t do it. The thought of leaving was harder than the thought of being posted somewhere useless, and she eventually bowed her head, scowling. “Beg pardon, training master.”

“Back in line, Page Yvenne,” he growled, and the gruffness was reassuring. “Now, I know this news is a shock for you lady pages, but I know for a fact that Lady Keladry has been placed exactly where she will be most effective. Lord Wyldon knows what he is doing in the field of battle. When the time comes for you to be placed, be of a surety that you’ll find yourselves where your talents lie.”

\-----

A period of high, quiet tension descended over Corus, punctuated by the scattered news of victories and defeats, and kept heated by the rumors of the black, frightening killing devices. The war had claimed all the talented mages of the realm, so Nara Shidon was back to being the pages’ magic teacher. It wasn’t that he wasn’t talented, but that he was an ally’s mage, and uniquely good with children.

It was in the tense atmosphere that the pages took their exams at the end of April. They were all so keyed up that several of them fumbled, but in the end, they all passed. Bennett was elated that he’d managed it, since he’d been a fumbler.

The night that the first years passed, the girls and most of the boys of their year gathered in one of their courtyards, drinking spiced small cider and singing war songs until the senior pages chased them back to their rooms.

Merinda, Fianola, and Yvenne gathered in Yvenne’s room, giggling.

“Can you believe we made it through our first year?” Yvenne twirled in the center of the room, as light on her feet as a dancer. “Great Mother bless us in the next year!”

Merinda sat in Yvenne’s comfortable fireplace chair, hugging her knees. “So mote!”

“So mote,” Fianola echoed, smiling. “May the next three years feel as easy as this one did.”

“Or easier!” Yvenne flopped on the deep red bedcover on her bed. “I feel wrung out, and we still have the training camp to do.”

“I overheard Gaiden saying it was going to be near the border of Tusaine, near the twins’ home.” Merinda was good at being invisible, even around the boys that hated her presence.

“Do you think there will be anymore girls coming in next year?” Yvenne sighed wistfully at her bedcurtains.

“I hope so,” Fianola replied, tracing the carving on the arm of Yvenne’s desk chair. “It seems to be an upwards trend.”

“What if… what if one year there are only girls?” 

“You’re daydreaming, Yvenne.” Fianola chuckled and got up. “Come on. Just because there’s no classes tomorrow doesn’t mean we should get into bad sleeping habits.”

Merinda slipped off the chair, bidding Yvenne a goodnight. She padded off to her own room and climbed into bed, but couldn’t get to sleep. She kept wondering if there would be some year when only girls came to Corus to be knights, or more realistically, outnumber the boys. It could happen. She fell asleep finally and dreamed of girls in fairy armor riding into battle against bears and wolves.

\-----

After the big exams, the fourth year pages went over to the squire side of the mess hall, including the funny and handsome Griffin of Pearlmouth and the perpetually bored Arnold of Marmist. As entertainment, they had a bard in who sang not of war, but mostly songs of the hunt, and a Yamani fan dancer in a pretty pale yellow kimono with fans that looked like butterflies. They even got a subtlety of a pretty white beehive made of crunchy candy honeycomb inside and spun sugar on the outside, surrounded in marzipan bees and candy flowers.

Still, there was a somber feeling in the air. The new squires either had knights that had waited for them and would be taking them into war, or they would have to wait longer than normal to get knight masters, likely from among those sent home injured.

Only a few days later were the remainder of the pages packed up and headed out along the Great Road East. They followed the Olorun for the first couple days, camping out in the open, until the river swerved to the north. They continued on the road for the next four days until the Olorun came diving back down south. There, they split off from the road and followed the river towards its source at Lake Tirragen.

Almost as soon as they started to go across open countryside did they find trouble in the form of an ogbear, an immortal being twice the size of a normal bear, with four spider-like eyes and spikes down its back, and a mean temper. Their spears and lances, plus the palace dogs that had followed them, came in very handy. Pip even helped by diving on the monster and blinding it on one side. The beast went down hard. No one wanted to eat it, so they burned the corpse quickly with the help of the mages in the group and moved on.

On the tenth day out, the forest opened up into large, beautiful fields of grass, and the pages let their horses run, although they stayed alert for trouble. Pip hunted small game and even brought down a couple pheasants. A few of the hounds coursed up some other game, which the pages hunted for their supper.

They skirted the north side of the lake for a few days, then got into hill country and got to the camping ground across the border from Meadowside in the fief of Berryfield. There, they assisted what was left of the local guard to train villagers in self-defense and to bulk up the defenses in each village and small town. Near the end of May they got to go to the first fair of summer. Merinda bought some head scarves to wear under her helm, Yvenne bought a dress and some ribbons -- “I _am_ still a girl after all.” -- and Bennett got a pretty little hairpin for his mother.

While Merinda and Yvenne were walking the fair, a gaggle of little girls ran up to them, bearing wooden swords and stick horses. They had heard of the girl pages and were ecstatic, swarming the girls with questions. They were more than happy to answer them, even waiting for the quietest girls at the back. An impromptu little joust followed between the little girls, with Merinda and Yvenne as judges. The winner was the most shy, Amaranth of Fieldberry, the Lord’s youngest daughter. Yvenne presented her with one of the ribbons as a prize.

When they finally moved on, they ran into Lachran of Mindelan and a few of the other senior pages. Prince Jasson was among them. Lachran was miming putting his finger in his mouth and gagging, making the prince and the other boys smirk. They smirked at the girls. “Hey, Kels Ridge, Linshart,” Lachran called. “I hope you know that the prizes in a real joust aren’t ribbons and silks. Not that you all will make it that far.”

“Padraig is cracking down on pages, you know,” Jasson said, just loud enough for them to hear. “Wyldon thought he could grind anyone into shape, but Padriag knows the some people have faults too big to be ground and polished.”

“Funny, the only pages that failed under Wyldon were the ones that hated women,” Yvenne mused lightly. “I wonder what that means?”

The boys went angry, but didn’t dare start fights in public. These were without doubt some of the bullies that had pulled pranks last year, and they knew very well that they would get demerits if they were caught, or group punishments if they weren’t.

“It means that you can play at this all you like, but in the end, none of you will make it.” Lachran glared at them with utter distaste.

“How can you be like this, Mindelan?” Merinda returned his glare. “Your aunt is the Lady Knight Keladry.”

For a moment, he looked as if some shame was in him, then he spit at their feet. “I have no aunt by that name.”

The boys left then, and Yvenne shook her head. “That boy needs help. He’s crazy.”

\-----

When the pages returned to Corus, it was to the news that Lady Keladry had pulled off an amazing act of heroism, going into enemy territory to retrieve the people that had been stolen from her to fuel the killing devices.

The day they were packing to leave for the summer, Hatine appeared at Merinda’s door. “I just thought you ought to know, but it’s been quietly announced that Princess Lianne will be a page starting next autumn.”

Merinda paused in the act of putting her writing kit in her trunk. Shock rolled over her in a wave of goosebumps. “She is?” 

“Maybe Jasson will lighten up now,” Hatine said wryly.

“What do you mean?”

Hatine watched her for a moment, an eyebrow raised. “Jasson’s been a prat to us because his favorite baby sister was denied being a page this last year by the King. But Queen Thayet finally put her foot down and Lianne will be the first princess knight.”

“By the gods,” Merinda whispered, sitting down. Suddenly a good many things made sense about their last year. Even Prince Liam had been somewhat distant with the girl pages in a way that he wasn’t with the boys. Hopefully, next year half their bullies would be more reluctant to start anything, what with the princes trying to protect their little sister.

Hatine nodded solemnly, then waved as she left. “See you in September.”

Merinda sighed. Sometimes she wanted to be just like Hatine, always calm, noble, and responsible. Stoic was a good word for it, but she felt like somewhere out there there was a better one.


	10. Kelsholme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yvenne visits her fief for the first time in years.

Yvenne paused Yuliast at the top of a hill and looked out over the fields of fodder drying in the summer heat. Yuliast shifted underneath her, the black horse radiating further heat off his coat. She stroked his dark mane, knowing he felt her anxiety. Down in the valley was Kelsholme, the castle she’d been born in.

Sighing with resignation, she followed Captain Jaxin down into the valley. A wagon creaked behind her, driven by one of the soldiers that had been sent by her steward, Francis, to retrieve her for her visit. He had insisted so strenuously on seeing her progress as a young lady that he’d made it impossible for her to give any excuse to stay away. All of the soldiers that had showed up were of a suspiciously appropriate age to go to war, and she gave in only because of the implication that her fiefdom was not contributing its share to the war.

So she had packed all the dresses she’d been collecting over the year, her box of jewelry, and her maid Jassima -- who had been sworn to secrecy in a Temple -- into a wagon and allowed herself to be carted off. She had insisted on riding her own horse, though. Plenty of court ladies rode, and not just pretty little palfreys.

The gardens inside the castle walls looked to be in good order, and the fields and town seemed to be well-cared for and prosperous. Yvenne surveyed the area with a keen eye and hoped that her being away for so long hadn’t been a detriment to the fiefdom. Then again, she was only twelve years old. She shouldn’t be expected to know better than a man in his forties raised to managing.

The closer they got to the castle, the faster Yvenne’s heart beat. She liked Francis, she really did, and she hated lying to him, but he still had some control over her future. It was possible he would try to enforce her babyhood betrothal, or write to Padraig to tell him about how she wasn’t old enough to make these decisions for herself. She firmed her lips and straightened her spine, trying to bolster herself. Maybe if she took over from the moment she got in, then she could bowl him over.

She would need to get some information in order to give orders. She couldn’t just go into it blind.

As they travelled the gentle road, Yvenne quizzed the guards to either side of her about the state of the castle, the servants she’d never met, the annual crop intake, taxes, and how it was that such fit men could be spared to escort her.

The result was not as bad as she feared, but not as well as she wanted it to be. Francis tended to leave the treatment of the servants over to the housekeeper, a new woman named Hildred, who was strict to the edge of abuse. The soldier she found this out from had a sweetheart that was a maid in the castle, and Hildred had rules that prevented them from meeting unless it was a high holiday. She locked the servants in at night, and kept the men and women strictly segregated, and worked them far longer than was necessary in order to save money hiring on extra help.

On Francis’ side, it seemed like he ran the books exactly like his master had, and had not had one wit of flexibility since he’d taken the position. The tax rate was the same, no matter if there was drought or a boon year. Inflation was never taken into consideration. They were losing money these days, though the population was prospering. Some of the headmen took advantage of this, but some had put away what they should have been paying or were using it to repair infrastructure.

Francis also seemed incapable of responding to the calls of major action, and would not touch anything having to do with soldiers. When the King had called for levies of troops, either the Kels Ridge letter had gotten waylaid, or Francis had ignored it completely. As a Duchy, though, they should have been some of the first to send troops, if not all of them. After all, they were on the border with a peaceful ally.

She was in a fine temper by the time they rode in through the gates and up to the upper bailey. She allowed one of the soldiers to help her down off Yuliast for the sake of appearances. She was in a gown of fawn and an overdress of deep wine, her favorite color. Her hair was up under a net studded with rosy pearls, little tendrils of curls on the sides of her face. It all made her look a bit older. She thanked her heritage that she never tanned, just burned and peeled, for surely a tan would have given her game up. She did have a few more freckles than she had last summer, but she hadn’t seen Francis since she was six, so he shouldn’t notice.

Jassima, a raka girl from the Copper Isles who had been freed after the navy had captured a slaver ship, and who had been hired by Yvenne in the summer before she became a page, hopped down out of the cart and joined Yvenne. She was slighter than Yvenne, even if she was a year older, and dressed in a simpler version of her mistress’ dress, in a lovely pale blue over cream. Her black hair was up in a bun, her dark eyes lined in kohl, her dark golden cheeks pinked from the sun.

The bailey was clean and well kept, with not a stray chicken or missing cobble. The glass windows above were perfect and clear, not a smudge to be seen. Yvenne did not wait for Francis to show himself, but ascended the doubleback staircase to the balcony that overlooked the courtyard. There, the two soldiers came to attention and opened the big double doors in deference to her status.

Her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light in the wide hall, decorated tastefully in the red and white of her family's colors. For a moment she wondered if she was going to have a bevy of unwanted traumatic memories, but she felt… nothing.

There was no onslaught of lingering death, no echoes of cold or pain. It was just an entry hall, like any other room, decorated with banners, weapons, and paintings. A thin, spindly man with a friendly face and curling silver hair came down a staircase, grinning broadly. 

“Your Grace! I am so very happy to finally see you again!” He stopped in front of her and bowed with exacting propriety. His hands went the his lips. “Oh, you look so very much like your mother, gods rest her. But do forgive me. You won't have remembered me. I'm your steward, Francis Ofellian.”

Boy, he was chatty. Perhaps he was nervous? She smiled graciously and nodded to him. “Francis, so good to see you. Now, while I go refresh myself, would you be so kind as to,” she said, then paused. How best to proceed? She needed to keep him on his toes, then continue the momentum throughout her visit. “Personally see to the settling of my belongings and get me some refreshments. I prefer mint tea. And please, nothing with onions or garlic in it. I’m allergic.”

“Of course,” he said, seemingly eager to take orders.

“Please send it up with the maid Lana,” she continued. It was a risk to have him out of her sight with no orders, but she wanted to confirm about Hildred. Lana was the soldier’s sweetheart. Not wanting her orders to be questions, she removed her riding gloves and handed them to Jassima as she made her way up the stairs. In preparation for this, she had studied a map of the layout of the castle. She knew where she was going.

Up two flights of stairs and through complicated hallways to the wing that was supposed to house the main family. She knew from her letters from Francis that he had updated her room for a young lady instead of a child, probably trying to bribe her to visit. And indeed, the room she found was the latest of fashion set by the queen, with light, beautiful colors and sparing but elegant decorations. Her parlor was a combination of mauve and rose pink, the wood all painted white with gold accents. It was surprisingly to her taste. The bedroom was even better, in shades of red with the woods left to a natural golden color. Beside the wardrobe were a dozen or so bolts of fine fabrics.

Jassima put a hand on the bolts and raised an eyebrow at Yvenne. “I would hire out for these, m’lady. My skill is not up to it yet.”

“That’s alright.” Yvenne went to the big windowed doors at the back of the room, pushing them open so that Pip could come in when he caught up. The balcony outside was covered and looked out over a rose garden. She sighed. “You and I both know I won’t need them for a time. Store them in the dressing room, please.”

Yvenne went back to the parlor. Shortly, there was a knock, and the door opened at her call. A cute young woman of about nineteen came in, bearing a tea tray. She had brown hair braided in a crown around her head, a face anyone would call sweet, and big doe eyes the color of autumn leaves. “Your tea, Your Grace.”

“Thank you, Lana,” Yvenne said, smiling. She took a seat, letting the surprised girl serve her while men in the house uniform brought in her trunks. “Please wait for a moment.”

The girl gave over the teacup and then stood with her hands folded in front of her. Yvenne sipped and waited for the men to leave. When they were alone, she reached into her belt pouch and pulled out a hastily written note. “Kelden says hello and asked me to give you this.”

Lana gasped, tears springing to her eyes, and gently took the note. Yvenne gave her time to read it, one hand over her heart. She handed over a handkerchief, which the girl took absently and wiped her eyes, then spotted under her nose. Damn it all, she was a graceful crier. Yvenne was somewhat jealous. She always got horrendously puffy when she cried.

When the girl folded up the letter and put it in her pocket, she finally remembered herself and bowed. “Oh, Your Grace! Forgive me, but it’s been so long since I’ve even heard from my Kelden. Thank you so very much!”

“It’s alright. I might be twelve, but I’m not all heartless.” She smiled. “Now, come sit down here. I heard from him that this Hildred isn’t very kind. And please, speak frankly with me. I’m used to bluntness.”

Lana looked worriedly at the door, then sat, twisting the handkerchief in her lap. “Well… Begging your grace’s pardon, but Madam Hildred is quite the old fashioned person. She’s a member of the Temple of the Gentle Mother, but she’s not in the least bit gentle herself. She keeps the women completely apart from the men, even during work, and she locks the doors to our rooms at night. We don’t get any free hours at all, unless it’s in our rooms or on mandatory holidays. She did ban us maids from going to Beltane, too, else Kelden and I would have already gotten married.”

“I see.” This was rather troubling. No one should have that much power over other free people. This Hildred was treating the servants like slaves! “And what keeps you from leaving to work elsewhere?”

Lana swallowed hard. “She… she withholds our wages, Your Grace. She says that if ever we wish to leave, she’ll give us our wages in full as our dowries, but we all know that she doesn’t pay the full amount, and most of us aren’t willing to be cheated like that.”

Now Yvenne was mad. That was incredibly illegal, and she hated for such practices to be associated with her good name. “Does she ever physically or verbally abuse you?”

Lana nodded. “Mostly yelling and calling us names. Not so much with the whipping, but she does slap us.”

Yvenne frowned. “Thank you, Lana. I appreciate your telling me this. Be assured, I will fix this.”

“Oh, m’lady! That would… it might just make things worse.”

“Nonsense. I’ll make sure she doesn’t set foot within ten miles of this place by the time I’m done with her.” Yvenne ate a little and drank as she calmed the distraught maid down. When Lana was ready, she sent her back out with instructions to tell Francis to attend her.

While she waited, Pip flew in the door in the bedroom and landed on the perch that she had requested be put out for him in her last letter. Immediately he set to preening his back, complaining about hot feathers. Jassima closed the doors behind him to keep the castle coolness in.

Francis arrived quickly. “Ah, Francis. Would you be so kind as to show me to your office? I’d like to go over the books and recent correspondence. It’s part of my schooling in Corus.”

He looked rather relieved. It seemed to Yvenne that it was true he didn’t like making big decisions. “Of course, Your Grace.”

The office was a dark, utilitarian room on the floor below, filled with shelves. It had a desk, three chairs, and a small fireplace, without a scrap of whimsy or decoration. The account books were lined up neatly by year, and all official correspondence was correlated properly. She flipped through the last year and a half of accounting, wincing internally at the low tax rate, the laxness of attention to infrastructure. For that alone, she let Francis sweat.

“Would you be so kind as to show Madam Hildred to me,” she said absently as she leafed through the letters, looking for the royal crest. “Immediately?”

She was not impressed when the woman did arrive. Madam Hildred had probably been handsome in her youth, but her nose had gotten away from her, and work had knobbled her hands. She had flashing black eyes and black hair shot through with silver. Somehow, she had a modicum of resemblance to Francis, which could have been how she’d gotten the job.

“Your grace sent for me?” Her voice was terse and hard, even with Yvenne.

“Yes, Madam Hildred. Your services will no longer be necessary here. I don’t know what possessed you to play at slaveholder, but that is illegal here. I happened to see in the books that you have been withdrawing monthly wages for the servants here, but I’ve been informed that you do not pay them. I require to know where all that money has gone and why you have been stealing from me.”

Hildred stared at Yvenne intensely, and when she didn’t respond, Yvenne prompted her with a very firm, “Right now, if you please.”

“I don’t know what lies these girls have been filling your head with. They can’t be trusted--”

“Spare me the excuses. Where are the wages owned my servants? Must I have your quarters searched?”

When the woman relaxed a hair, Yvenne did not miss it. “And the housekeeper’s office.”

There was a bit of panic there. Yvenne smiled. “Thank you for being more forthcoming. It spares me the hassle of arresting you. I invite you to pack your things and leave my property. All of it. And to never show your face again.”

“But…! How?”

“And I won’t be giving you a reference. You are dismissed.”

While she had waited for Hildred, Yvenne had called also for a couple soldiers, including the captain and Lana’s sweetheart Kelden. When Hildred went to leave, the sight of the soldiers stopped her cold.

“These gentlemen will escort you to your rooms to make sure that you don’t get the idea of sneaking into the office.”

After Madam Hildred had packed and gone, with an escort to make sure she got to the border, Yvenne addressed the entire household. She assured them that they would get their proper wages, and interviewed the maids in order to find someone suitable to promote to housekeeper. She ended up choosing the eldest of them, who had good common sense and was recommended by the rest for the position.

After quite a bit of searching, the missing wages were discovered under a brick in the small fireplace in the housekeeper office. Not all of it was there, but it was a huge nest egg. Hildred had only been allowed to pack a single bag, and she had to fit food for the road in it. After counting out the missing wages immediately, handing it over to the gathered maids, Yvenne invited them to raid the remainder of Hildred’s belongings for themselves. She was pleasantly surprised to see that the girls allowed the new housekeeper to keep fully half of it for herself as a sort of congratulations for being promoted. The prize piece was a silver tea service, which every good housekeeper would love to have.

That night, Yvenne had supper with Francis and Collese, the housekeeper, and she discussed the badly needed increase in taxes so that they could repair roads and bridges. She also ordered an increase in food supplies taken from the fief to go towards the war supply lines. Not so much that her people starved, but what could be spared.

Francis apologized for not sending troops, and Yvenne forgave him, then set up draft orders. Their currently trained soldiers had to go, and she felt guilty at separating Kelden and Lana so soon. Then she had a thought. Kelden would have a promotion to Sergeant, and he would be charged with training the influx of new recruits that would be necessary if the war went longer than the coming midwinter. She had a feeling that it would.

When Francis asked her how she had learned all this in just a year of training at Corus, she merely shrugged elegantly and made the excuse that it was something she was learning specially, because she was an heiress. For now, Francis was satisfied.


	11. Year Two Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As September approaches, three young girls prepare in their own ways to become first year pages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized while writing this chapter that I royally screwed up the ages of Liam, Jasson, Lianne, and Vania. Pun fully intended. They're supposed to be older by about four years. Probably when I go back and rewrite I'll take out Liam, but leave the other three where they are. Poop. I hate being bad at math.

The barn was warm, filled with golden light and dust motes, the late afternoon sunbeams slanting through the doors and windows. Talia, dressed in a white frock and a pale lavender overdress, padded in as silently as a cat. This barn was mostly used for storage and was rarely visited, the better to hide her newest pet.

Perhaps pet was the wrong word. Friend? Partner? Talia wasn’t sure yet. The ten year old daughter of the local lord was a pretty thing, with full, pink lips, dark brows, and periwinkle blue eyes. Her dark hair was already cut to her earlobes in preparation for her training to come, and it curled and waved fetchingly around her face and long neck. She peered into a stall and her face fell at seeing it empty.

“What? Where…?” She entered the stall and poked around in the fresh hay she’d left out.

A squeak was her only warning that the animal she’d rescued that morning was still around. Out of a section of hay came the fluffy, soft face of a cute little baby fox.

“There you are!” she whispered, offering one of the bits of ham she’d filched from the kitchen. “C’mon. It’s okay.”

The cub sniffed at the meat eagerly, then shimmied out of the hay to nab the bite, wolfing it down. Out of the hay now, it was very apparent that this was no fox. Though it was baby fluffy, the front legs were bare, with the structure and talons similar to a bird of prey. Instead of a bottlebrush tail, it was more feathered, like a wolf’s. And there was a ridge of denser fur down it’s neck and back. The eyes were like molten bronze, and the fur a mix of greys.

Talia didn’t care what the cub looked like; she fed it with a smile. It was a playful little thing, chasing the scraps around. When it was finally full, it’s little tummy rounded, it hopped up into her lap, curled up into a ball, and went to sleep.

\-----

While the wolves had never been specifically a birthday present from Daine, they had arrived in Trebond right around Rose’s fifth birthday and she’d sort of gravitated towards them. Being on the younger end of ten children, she was the wildest of them, especially since she spent the majority of her time hanging around with a pack of wolves.

They weren’t just ordinary wolves, oh no. These were the special kind of smart wolves that only came from associating with the Wild Mage Daine. This was an offshoot of the Long Lake Pack, wolves too smart to just go about in places where people wouldn’t understand them. So now they roamed in the mountains of Trebond, mostly keeping the population of deer from getting out of hand. They were also efficient bandit hunters.

Rose laid out on a ridge of rock, looking down into a little cup of a valley. She was a skinny ten year old, her red hair in a high tail under the hood of her wolf skin cloak. This was not as barbaric as it sounded. Blackclaw and Redsky, the leaders of the pack, had hunted down a huge, rabid wolf that had foolishly come into their hills by chasing it into a trap for the human huntmaster to take care of, back before Rose’s seventh birthday. They had happily consented to the dead wolf being skinned so that Rose could have a proper wolf coat. The fur was a beautiful brown and grey that helped her blend into the forest.

Her hazel eyes peeked through the eyeholes in the hood, spying on the small group of bandits sitting around a campfire down below. With her, crouching on the rocks, was Blackclaw, the lead dogwolf, and Noser, their best tracker. The pack was seven adults strong, and there were four young adults just old enough to start hunting big prey. 

It was dangerous, hunting humans. In the family graveyard there were three headstones in the area dominated by a statue of Moonsoft, the lead bitch when the pack had first been introduced to Trebond. She’d died hunting bandits, as had an adolescent dogwolf. The third was a stillborn pup. They reminded Rose never to let her guard down.

Beside her lay her strung bow and a full quiver of arrows, plus her spear. She was best at archery; the spear was just in case she needed to keep something at bay. Rose loved weapons, but she wasn’t yet as good with them as she wanted to be. Papa had taught her, of course, once she’d shown an aptitude for it, but with him also training the soldiers, it was tough to get his time. Trebond had become one of the best places for common folk to come to train for the army, and they often went north to do border duty. With the war now, Papa was busier than ever.

Two bandits split off from the group to go take the first watch of the evening. Rose listened as one came very close to her hiding spot, right down below her ridge. She grinned, turning silently onto her back, waiting for twilight to fall and the watch to get comfortable.

Blackclaw pawed her, the signal that Captain Til had decided it was time to act. She had no compunction about killing these men. After all, they had been killing and raping their way through the mountains lately. She took her bow, nocked an arrow to the string, turned over and got up on her knees. She aimed and let loose the arrow. From this angle her arrow stuck in the man’s shoulder, burying behind his collarbone.

It was sufficiently painful that he didn’t make a sound as Blackclaw and Noser fell upon him, ripping his throat out. She dropped down, boots skidding in pebbles, and ran with the two wolves to a closer vantage. She shot another bandit as wolves and Trebond soldiers took out those that did not surrender.

The victory was bittersweet. As the soldiers took custody of the surrendered bandits and piled up the dead ones, the wolves gathered around Rose and whined. This was her last hunt with them until the next summer. She wished she could take them with her, but Papa and Mama both had forbidden it. No one would understand her in Corus. She was a first generation born noble, she was half feral, she didn’t like people nearly as much as she liked her wolves, and she sort of had a leg up on most first-year pages in that she had already killed people at her age.

She smiled, lips held together, to sooth her best friends. Blackclaw and Redsky, Noser, Downwind, Surprise, Highpaw, and Crispleaf, the younglings Sheepish, Sly, Violet, and Yip. She gave each one a scratch and praised them, setting all their tails wagging.

“I’ll miss you,” she whispered, buried in wiggling younglings and getting her face licked by Surprise. “I’ll miss you so much.”

\-----

The incredibly stifling gown Princess Lianne was in was a grand confection of satin and lace, but it wasn’t near as complicated as the layer cake Princess Shinkokami was in. Despite the royal funds being pumped into the war, that particular dress had been in the making for years. Though she had insisted on a dress of eastern fashion, she had had it done up in the traditional Yamani gold. She looked dazzling.

Lianne was happy for her older brother, and was feeling uniquely generous towards him and his bride. They had teamed up with Mother, Liam, and Jasson to convince Father to send her to page training in the fall. She was a year late, but there were other pages even now that were older than their yearmates, some of them even girls. She’d be fine.

Standing on the groom’s side of the stuffy chapel with the rest of her siblings, Lianne beamed with pride. It didn’t matter to her that the chapel wasn’t even half full. For the wedding of a Crown Prince, it was positively empty. Afterwards, only the family would celebrate. Roald and Shinkokami had put off the official celebrations until the end of the war.

After the private get together with the family, Lianne retired to her room. She shared the small suite with her younger sister Vania, and she had often joked that they were the only princesses in history that had to share a room. It wasn’t bad. Lianne and Vania were of similar minds, though Vania was more girly. 

Maids swarmed her as she entered, helping her out of the complicated dress. Normally Lianne dressed herself, or with a single maid if it was necessary. Shinko would have all the maids now, and Kalasin, who was going to marry Emperor Kaddar next year. She was here for the wedding, but would be leaving in a few days for Carthak.

Dressed in a night shift, Lianne leaned over her vanity and stared into the mirror. Poor Kalasin. She’d so badly wanted to be a knight, to become Father’s champion when Lady Alanna eventually retired. But now she was moving to a foreign country to be an empress, her dreams gone. Well, Lianne would see that dream realized.

She picked up the sewing scissors from her maid’s sewing basket and went to the mirror again. Holding a lock of long, dark hair, she put the scissors to it at chin length. She stared into the mirror.

This was not just for Kalasin. This was for herself too. This was for all the daughters of Tortall who wanted to fight for what they believed in.

She cut the lock off.

Rather than feeling a loss, it was like a weight off her shoulders. She smiled at herself, and carefully started cutting off more.

“What are you doing?” It was Vania, in her own night dress and with her hair braided up for the night, looking quite surprised. She’d gone to bed before Lianne.

“Cutting my hair. Papa said I had to wait until after the wedding.”

“Shouldn’t you have someone else do it?” Vania was Scandalized; her hair was her pride and joy. It had never been cut. The tips were still her soft baby hair.

“I’m being careful.” She snipped off another lock.

“Oh, give me those.” Vania snatched the scissors out of Lianne’s hands.

“Hey!”

“Stop squirming! I know what I’m doing.”

“Bullshit. You’ve never cut hair before in your life.”

“But I’m a better seamstress than you.” Vania waited for Lianne to settle, then carefully started on the back. “And don’t cuss. It’s unbecoming of a princess.”

Lianne sighed heavily and let her do it. There was no use telling Vania that the other pages were likely to be foul mouthed and would expect her to cuss with them. She’d just say that nobles didn’t cuss. Sometimes Vania was naive about people.

Before Vania could finish, there was a gentle knock at the door that made them jump. The door opened quietly and Kalasin poked her head in. “What are you two up to?”

“Um, cutting Lianne’s hair?”

“Vania, you are nine.” Kalasin laughed softly and padded in. She was nineteen years old and just as lovely as Mama.

“So?”

“So let me do it instead.” Kalasin sighed as she observed the mess. “You didn’t even wrap up in a sheet, Lianne.”

“I just wanted my hair short like all the other pages,” Lianne protested with a pout.

Kalasin took the scissors and began snipping hair with more competence than either of her sisters. “I know for a fact that two of the girls and one of the boys that started last year keep their hair long.”

Lianne gasped. “Don’t they get their hair pulled?”

“Not unless the offender wants a punch in the nose. Coraline of Meadowside even knocked out an older boy’s tooth when he pulled her hair.”

Vania scoffed at the idea of brawling, but Lianne loved it. She grinned broadly, imagining the fiery girl she’d seen scowling while serving at Midwinter punching a nasty boy in the face. The thought was hilarious and she couldn’t hold back a giggle.

“Of course, Lianne, you know what to do if a boy picks on you, right?” Kalasin gave a bit of hair a little teasing tug.

Lianne laughed. “Punch him in the nose?”

Vania rolled her eyes. “You should tell the training master about it!”

Kalasin and Lianne gave her scandalized looks. “No, Lianne is right! If you tattle, none of the pages will ever speak to you again.”

“You both are crazy,” Vania huffed, crossing her arms. They stared at her for a few moments, then went back to finishing up Lianne’s hair. Vania was too stubborn to accept that some girls just wanted to beat things up. Still she was a good sister, for all that she was nine years old, going on ten. She was the princess that Papa had always wanted, and was sure to make a very fine marriage alliance. If only Papa had known she would be born when he’d convinced Kalasin to not go for her shield…

Well, that was an ‘if only’ and princesses never got those. And Kalasin wasn’t bitter about it. She’d met Kaddar on multiple occasions over the years and rather liked him more than any man she’d ever met. She could see herself loving him. She was mostly just happy that Papa had given in regarding Lianne. And of course, so was Jasson. He and Lianne were very close, and his temperament since last fall had been horrendous.

The last bit of hair was snipped off and the three sisters looked into the mirror together. Kalasin, tall and beautiful, somewhat apprehensive about her future but determined to live up to expectations, Lianne, stubborn and full of vigor, looking grand and ready with her page haircut, and Vania, delicate and strong at the same time, smiling for her sisters but secretly worried about them. Kalasin stroked Lianne’s hair. “You’ll be the best knight ever.”

Lianne beamed.


	12. Sponsors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a short chapter. I'm coming down with the flu and it makes thinking difficult.

Bennett had spent the summer morosely exploring the palace. The alternative was being cooped up in his mother’s palace rooms, and that was a complicated situation. She was trying to pretend that everything was alright when he knew perfectly that it wasn’t. Her cheerful mask was brittle enough to hurt. It was a delicate balance, making up excuses to keep out of her hair, and spending enough time with her so that she didn’t think he was avoiding her. It was especially difficult when he now knew that she lived incredibly sparsely so that he could go to training. It wasn’t fair.

So he formulated a plan. He didn’t know how to come up with money himself, but Merinda looked at all the angles. She could at least help him brainstorm. The moment he heard that the Linshart girls were back, he raced down the halls to Merinda’s room. Perhaps he was being a bit presumptive on their small friendship, but they had needed new gear by today and his mother had borrowed to get it. He wanted to pay back the creditor before any fines accrued.

Merinda was in her room, thank goodness. She was doing push-ups while her cheerful maid put clothes away in the wardrobe. Bennett hesitated in the doorway. Everyone knew that Merinda hated her maid and was always in a bad mood when the young woman was about. Perhaps he should wait until later.

“What do you want, Bennett?”

He startled a little. Merinda was now glaring at him, sweat dripping from her brow.

“Er… I was hoping to be able to pick your brain a little before dinner.”

She sighed, did one more push-up, and got to her feet lightly. She was taller than him now by a good few inches, her hair wildly curling in the humid, lingering heat, her skin even darker from a summer spent outdoors. She was quite spectacular in a sky-blue tunic and fawn hose, and she was already wearing her weight harness. Bennett was impressed by her determination.

“Alright then, come have a sit.” He sat gingerly on the edge of her desk chair as she started doing some of the Shang techniques that increased the flexibility of wrists, twisting her hands this way and that and holding the poses for thirty seconds each. Out of habit he joined her. It helped him form words better.

“Well, you know how my dad has been lately, right?”

Merinda snorted. She did not think highly of the man who was rumored to have once attacked Lady Keladry without provocation, and who had definitely tried to kill Bennett, his own son. “You mean perpetually horrid? No offense to you, but your dad is off his rocker.”

Bennett was still trying to come to grips with that very fact. “You’re right… But he cut us off from the family funds, and I thought it would help mum to earn some coin up. Do you think I should tutor in history? It’s my best subject.”

“Ben, everyone loves history. Sir Myles is the best teacher here.” 

“Oh. Well, then maybe I can send someone to sell my little plants in the market.”

Merinda sighed. “You’re not thinking big enough. I’ve seen you in magic class. You can do so much bigger than that. Go to the royal gardeners and see if they need help with sick foreign plants. They’re expensive to buy and difficult to keep healthy. Or go to the King himself and offer your services to him. No one likes a blight on crops, and I know you can cure plants of that.”

“But I’ve never done a whole field before!” Still, her idea about the royal gardeners was a solid one, and he turned the idea over in his mind as the two of them moved smoothly through light exercises. “Do you think the king would be alright with me mucking about in his greenhouses? Or… do you think he’d actually pay me?”

“He pays the wildmage for her work, doesn’t he? Mind, you’ll have to stay out of punishments. If you make it part of your schooling they might not pay you.”

He sighed and got up. “Well, thanks, Merinda. You always seem to know what to do.”

“Hey, anytime.” Even with Linsy still hanging about, Merinda smiled at him. “I mean it.”

“Thanks,” he said again, smiling back. As he left, he heard the maid teasing her mistress about boyfriends, which doubtlessly soured any good mood Merinda might have gained.

\-----

The bell right before dinner signalled for all the senior pages to gather outside their rooms, perfectly dressed and clean. Yvenne shifted nervously, eager for the idea that she could volunteer to sponsor another girl. She’d spied on the new pages earlier, but she didn’t know most of the names yet. There were three girls and five boys this year. The girls included Princess Lianne, and while Yvenne would have loved to sponsor her, Prince Jasson had made it perfectly clear that _he_ would be sponsoring his sister, thank you very much.

Padraig appeared, the fourth years and Jasson gathered around him, the third years behind him. Yvenne joined the other second years behind them, bouncing on her toes. It was hard to see all the new pages from back here, but she knew that the older boys would let girls be picked by girls. Maybe.

“Name?” Padraig sounded amused.

“Lianne of Conté, sir.”

“I think Jasson would kill me in my sleep if I let you be sponsored by anyone else. Go ahead.” A ripple of quiet laughter went through the group. “Name?”

“Ket of Mallory’s Peak.”

“Your uncle is Commander Raoul, yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Who will sponsor Ket?”

Edmund of Peacespring spoke up for Ket. Cassimar of Perblue was chosen by Arcat, and Pitr of Rogamin was spoken for by his cousin, the fourth year Sasha of Yunridge.

“Name?”

“Rose of Trebond. Sir.” The voice was small, a little rusty from being quiet, and most definitely a girl’s. Yvenne perked, especially when no one answered Padraig’s usual question. Of course, none of the boys spoke up for her. Yvenne could well imagine a small girl blushing awkwardly at not being picked. Well, if no one wanted her, Yvenne did.

“I’ll sponsor her, Padraig,” she piped up. Everyone in front of her turned, but she just beamed at them.

“Alright then, Page Yvenne of Kels Ridge. Come greet her.”

Yvenne pushed to the front of the pack, and nearly fell on her face with surprise. The girl in front of her was no pipsqueak, but was a towering ten year old of five and a half feet. She was taller than Yvenne and a good deal of the population of people around her. Her dark red hair was up in a messy tail, and she’d missed several spots when washing. Her tunic was wrinkled and one of her hose sagged. Her boots were dirty. It took every once of Yvenne’s ladylike willpower to not gawk or gasp. She merely put on her tightest, prettiest smile and clasped hands that itched for a scrub brush in front of her. 

“It’s very nice to meet you,” she greeted as Padraig went onto the next page, Dallen of Korpita. “You’re from Trebond?”

“Yes.” The girl scratched the back of her head. Yvenne couldn’t help the uncharitable worry that Rose had lice.

“And you’re the Lioness’ godsdaughter, yes?”

Rose nodded, but already she was looking after the others. Trevor of Linden was getting sponsored by the twins, gods save him. Yvenne realized suddenly that Rose was bad at small talk. She couldn’t have picked a worse match for her, personality-wise.

They caught up to the group just as Hatine was volunteering to sponsor Talia of Hannalof, who was dressed in the prettiest rose and saffron frock that Yvenne had ever seen. She sighed inwardly and knew she should have waited. Talia would have been much easier to talk to, and was completely wasted on a friendly rock like Hatine. She even had a bow in her hair!

Too late now. Yvenne sighed and followed the group to dinner. It was only after Padraig’s speech when she was looking around for people to talk to that she realized her own sponsor from the year before was missing. 

“Where’s Alan?” Her question caught attention among the pages, but no one knew why he wasn’t sitting among them.

“He’s training with Lord Imrah of Legann,” came the soft, rusty voice of Rose. Everyone who’d heard her turned their attention to her, and she blushed.

“Why?” Yvenne asked, concerned. Pages only took private training if their parents thought that they wouldn’t fit in at Corus somehow, whether it was because their children were poor fits, or because they thought the training master was insufficient. Alan had already been here a year and had many friends. He liked Padraig and his techniques. Was this some sort of delayed revenge on the Lioness’ part for the probationary year that Lady Keladry had been put through?

Maddeningly, Rose just shrugged. Yvenne was about ready to tear her own hair out interacting with Rose and it had only been less than an hour of acquaintance. How was she going to manage showing her around? Well, a knight didn’t shirk from duty, and she wasn’t about to either. She’d just have to do what needed doing and that was that.


End file.
